


The Places We Never Should Have Left

by Fleurete



Series: The Curving of the Coastline [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Oikawa-centric, enemies to friends to lovers that are still rivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurete/pseuds/Fleurete
Summary: Oikawa Tooru has been carving a life for himself in Argentina with Miyagi years behind him. When the Schweiden Adlers visit for a month, Tooru is thrust rudely back into a world he thought he'd abandoned.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio & Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: The Curving of the Coastline [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109459
Comments: 33
Kudos: 163





	The Places We Never Should Have Left

**Author's Note:**

> My last Haikyuu!! fanfic was written five (!!!) years ago, and for a different pairing, to boot! I've recently fallen back in love with the series and now adore this new pairing. I've also been craving canon-compliant material for this pairing that occurs during the final arc, so I wanted to contribute a little something. It was fun imagining these characters as they would be all grown up, and I hope I did them justice.
> 
> Title comes from [a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXQGbHyX3rM) that I listened to while writing this.

Tooru had known of their arrival. News traveled fast through his circle back in Sendai, though that circle had since moved to Tokyo, the rest of Japan, and even the rest of the world. Iwaizumi had sent a perfunctory text, telling him not to act a dumbass. Tooru had scoffed as he read the message during a break between practices in the gymnasium, with a towel around his neck and bottle to his lips; he was no longer amidst the leagues of Japan, let alone the Miyagi circuit. How could he let his past wriggle under his skin when he was so far past that?

As it turned out, his skin wasn’t as tough as he’d thought. Iwaizumi’s second message let Tooru know he’d passed on Tooru’s number to Kageyama, who had requested it specifically. Tooru grit his teeth and typed away in an angry rhythm on his phone. Then, he stopped himself. He was above this. Let Kageyama message him all he liked. Tooru did not need to grant him a response. He would have the high ground here. The new arrivals were on his turf, and he didn’t need to answer to them.

He grinned to himself. Man, wait until he told Iwaizumi how mature he was. He would be so proud.

“Uh, Tooru. Your phone’s going off again.”

Tooru turned away from his locker to glance at his gym bag perched on a bench. The cell phone stuffed in a side pocket was lit up and vibrating madly. He slammed his locker door shut with more force than needed and shouldered his bag.

“Did you find someone?” a teammate laughed. “You’ve been buzzing all week.”

“Tell us your secrets,” another said.

“What kind of man would I be if I kiss and told?” Tooru proclaimed, hand to his heart and eyelashes fluttering.

A round of booing erupted in the locker room. Tooru made a mental note to let Iwaizumi have it the next time they met. If that brat Kageyama was there as well, all the better.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” The topic of Tooru’s love life was discarded and a more pressing issue presented itself.

“Asado?” The suggestion was met with grunts of approval. Tooru pitied the establishment that would soon play host to a team of boisterous athletes.

“Ready to go?”

Tooru ignored another vibration from his phone. “Hell yeah. I’m starving.”

He had been here for years, but the country still shone like a jewel in his eyes. It resonated with a frenetic vibrancy that was nonexistent in Sendai. His home was calm and life shone in its cherry blossom trees and the heat of its summer festivals. But _here,_ here it buzzed and hummed and thrummed in time with his pulse that had not seen a moment’s rest since he landed here. It lit him from within and charged him with an energy he treasured.

His apartment in Palermo overlooked the cobbled path and the street vendors that hawked their wares every week. When he first moved in, he whiled away his precious few afternoons leaning against the wrought iron railing, breathing in the warmth of this new life he made for himself, listening to the rumble of languages he had yet to understand.

As the sun lowered and the stars were hung, Buenos Aires became a whole different force of nature. Bars and restaurants opened their doors to the night, and out drifted the crooning of live performers. Signs and streetlights blazed until dawn, flooding the rush of bodies in light.

When Tooru missed his home, he simply looked to his new one. He never stayed homesick for long.

The team sat under an umbrella beside an eatery they had chosen. Performers with drums strapped to their chests accompanying dancers in flamboyant costumes took to the street in a preview of the main Carnival parade later in the month. Tooru and the rest watched as they worked on devouring the table’s spread of meats dripping with juices and covered with an herb sauce. It didn’t take long, and as they did so Tooru reveled in the city’s embrace, the cool February air blowing gently on his skin. It eased his muscles, working him down from that high of a full day’s workout.

After finishing, the bill was sorted and farewells were traded. Tomorrow was a day off, but Tooru planned on getting in several hours worth of practice regardless. He left with the few remaining members of the team and was about to turn the corner when he heard Japanese being spoken. It could have been a tourist, except for the fact that it called his name in a voice he remembered never wanting to hear again.

“Oikawa,” it repeated. The baritone halted Tooru’s step. He turned his head, and Ushijima stood a few feet behind him, in the flesh. His form filled out his attire even more than it had in their school days; his shoulders were broader and his shirt was clinging to the definition of his stomach. He wore a jacket that seemed a bit too warm for the weather.

Tooru had known they were coming. Still, his mind let loose a curse or two. He would not snap; he would not be petty. He would not. He was better than that.

“What are you doing here?”

Well, it came out with a bit more acidity than he had intended, and he had used Spanish. His teammates stopped as well.

“Tooru? You know him?” one asked.

“He’s just a fan of mine,” Tooru said, nodding to them. “Go on. I’ll see you later.”

It was possible they recognized him, as the Adlers weren’t exactly an unknown name in volleyball. Several members had scored magazine spreads and advertisements, and Tooru would be lying if he said he didn’t know Ushijima had been touted as a ‘one-man army’ in many a profile. Either his teammates didn’t know or care, because they pat Tooru on the back and took their leave.

“Is that your team? What did you tell them?” Ushijima said. He had closed the distance between them until he was an arm’s length away. People moved around them, and the world seemed to close past the dazzling backdrop of the city until it contained only the two of them.

Tooru switched to Japanese as he said airily with a false joviality, “That being stopped on the street by a fan is humbling experience for me.”

“You’re not in Brazil anymore?”

Ah, the picture he took with Hinata. He shouldn’t be surprised it reached Ushijima, but he kind of is.

“I play in Argentina. That was just a short dalliance for Shouyou.”

Ushijima’s face was as unreadable as it always was. Tooru could attest to his own growth, but he wondered if Ushijima had changed at all, beyond just his size.

“I would like to play with you sometime. We are here for the month. I hope you can find some time for me,” Ushijima said. His tone was neutral, and his face was blank, and god did Tooru hate that about him. Tooru himself made sure to never have the full extent of his emotions on display, but Ushijima’s stoicism crawled at his skin. He was like a robot. A robot programmed to be as unnerving as possible, when there was something _just_ that little bit off about them.

“Sorry? I thought I heard you asking me to spend my valuable time with my competition. I have my own team relying on me. I can’t go fooling around with people on a field trip.” Who did Ushijima think he was? His obstinacy and stubbornness could rival a brick wall. Tooru felt that familiar irritation, blazing and red-hot, rising to his face. They were not friends, and they had not spoken since his departure from Sendai. He did not owe Ushijima a damn thing, especially when Ushijima had had the nerve to pass his righteous and logical judgment on Tooru’s decisions.

“I know,” Ushijima said, as polite as ever. “Yet I believe the opportunity too great to pass up, for both of us. Our teams would agree, I think.”

Tooru sulked a bit, because he knew Ushijima was right. But oh, how sweet a victory would be. He could grind Ushijima’s condescension into the dirt with a winning match. Tooru had followed the path he had desired, and it was leading him to the stars. He had betrayed so many expectations, and he craved the sweet ecstasy of proving to Ushijima that his path was not the only worthy one.

“Our schedules are packed,” Tooru said. He bit back the venom that threatened to spill over. He would let the world see their match and Ushijima’s comeuppance. Until then, he would keep the higher ground. Besides, he didn’t lie. Even his free time was preoccupied. If it weren’t, he would pencil something in.

“That is unfortunate,” Ushijima said regretfully. If he was miffed, he didn’t show it. He checked his watch, which was a surprisingly stylish silver chain. “Let Kageyama know if you are willing. I believe he has your contact information.”

Tooru laughed, but it came out more like a bark. “I would sooner break my leg. Tell him to delete it.”

“You would still be capable of using your phone. It is not your fingers you would want broken. Send him a message.”

Tooru gaped at him. A joke? From Ushijima? Tooru wasn’t sure it was, until he saw the lift of Ushijima’s brow. Tooru floundered for a second for something to say, and then he simply waved a hand.

“Have a good time here,” he said, and he turned. He hoped the next time he saw Ushijima would be on the court.

The next time _was_ on the court, but Tooru didn’t expect it to happen the next day, nor had this been what he meant. Why hadn’t he been more specific?

The morning had dawned with a chill that left Tooru reaching for the covers when he woke. By the afternoon he was dressed and showered after a run around the neighborhood. He had said hello to the same regulars on his route: the elderly woman selling fruits from a homely stall on the roadside, the college student watering flowers on his balcony, the children playing in front of the deli their parents owned. It had been shaping up to be a stellar day. He had packed his gym bag, tightened his shoelaces, and jogged to the stadium along the waterfront. The sunlight had danced on the surface of the still lake. He was going to work on adjusting his set for the newest member of the team, a young, sprightly graduate who was still a little green. It was going to be good. He was not going to hear from two of the biggest thorns in his side, because he would not check his phone.

Then he waltzed into the lobby, and he had heard yelling and the bouncing of balls on wood behind one of the sets of shut doors. This was no surprise; the courts were opened for classes, and many other teams gathered at the same arena. All the courts would not be occupied. Tooru would find an empty one.

He would have, except his name was being called again, this time with a great deal more incredulity and in not so deep a timbre. The doors had opened as Tooru attempted to start his search for a free room, arresting his movement like he had been caught red-handed. This was not the only sports center in town, and he considered hopping on the metro to get to one farther out. But he shook off the thought, because he would not be pushed out of his own playing field. He would not allow it.

“Tobio,” he drawled. “Got lost on your way to the toilet? It’s on your left, can’t miss it.”

Kageyama’s nostrils flared, but that was the extent of his reaction. His arms were rigid at his sides, and one hand held a wallet. He looked impossibly dorkier than he did in high school; his hair was parted down the middle and a muted nervous energy floated around him that was a shallow echo of days gone by. Tooru lifted his head and looked down his nose at Kageyama, at his ivory jersey and the large number twenty printed on it. He remembered being in a bar one night during the Rio de Janeiro Olympics, watching the flatscreen monitor with a drink in hand and seeing Kageyama in the signature red jersey of his national team. He couldn’t sleep that night, and he worked himself to the bone the next day until his legs were about to give out from under him.

“Please look after us. We will be in your care,” Kageyama shouted. He bowed ninety degrees and shot right back up again.

Tooru blinked. He hadn’t missed a part of the conversation, had he? “What on earth are you talking about? Did you get hit on the head? Quick, what’s your name?”

Kageyama’s brow furrowed like he was trying to remember something. “I told you this morning. Didn’t you read my message?”

“Obviously not,” Tooru said, with a hand on his hip. He wanted to go into the concept of the little checkmarks beside messages, but troubling Kageyama with such complicated information wasn’t worth the effort. “Out with it.”

“Our coaches spoke with each other, and they set up some sessions for us to play together last minute. We’ll still be mostly sticking to our planned activities, but we will be working with your team occasionally. We are looking forward to it,” Kageyama said. That line between his brows was still there, and he stood like a cadet at attention. The respect Kageyama was showing didn’t quite hit the same as Hinata’s did in Brazil. It had been a lifetime since they attended the same school and faced each other on the court, but the wounds scabbed in a way that was not as clean as Tooru liked, liable to bleed again if picked at. And boy, would this scrape at his skin like nothing else.

Tooru counted to three in his head, inhaling a deep breath. On the fourth count, he exhaled and said, “I wouldn’t play with you if you begged.”

It was a jest, of course. If his coach had scheduled something, Tooru would not make a fuss. He said it partly out of habit, and to see if he would get a repeat performance from Kageyama and perhaps another embarrassing photo. Unfortunately, Kageyama only glowered at him in a way that was marginally more frightening than a puppy.

Tooru wanted to get away from Kageyama and into the sanctuary of the court. Luckily, the doors Kageyama left from opened again. It was not Ushijima, thank god, but another of their teammates. Tooru didn’t think he could handle more of this twisted nostalgia. Kageyama bowed again, and went with the newcomer to a vending machine near the entrance.

The next month was going to be a nightmare.

Kageyama had messaged him about the arrangement after a series of texts, the first of which was sent even before his team landed a few days ago. The messages were short and awkward, and Tooru could recognize the the hesitance from an ocean away. They let Tooru know he was going to Buenos Aires for a month, asked if Tooru and his team could work with the Adlers. He didn’t even try to butter Tooru up with a few perfunctory greetings, getting to the point and reiterating that point when Tooru had failed to respond.

Well, Tooru thought as he gripped his phone tighter, guess Kageyama got his way after all. How dull.

Tooru also missed messages from his team’s group chat asking about the Adlers, and from Iwaizumi who inquired about his well-being having to deal with both Ushijima and Kageyama. It made Tooru feel better to see that Iwaizumi worried for him, even if he was the one that initiated this mess in the first place.

There was nothing left to do but get to it. He would not throw a tantrum about this. Not in public, anyway, and certainly not on the court. He would be better than that. He repeated this to himself as he ate breakfast, changed, and jogged to the stadium two days later. He would get through this. It was only a month. This could not kill him.

That was what Tooru thought. He would get lost in the midst of the match: a game was a game, regardless of its competitors. Then he stepped out onto the court, and he felt multiple gazes on him in an instant, appraising and wary. He met none of them, letting Kageyama’s hawk-like gaze search his stance and his camaraderie with his team, looking for ways to improve. Ushijima scanned him as well, but Tooru could not get as easy a read on him. His coach blew a whistle, and all the players gathered at the net.

“The Adlers have given us the opportunity to run a few sessions with them. Do not let this chance go to waste,” his coach said.

“Remember that there are no stakes here, save for your pride,” the Adlers’ coach added, whose hair was slicked back with a bit too much product. He looked over the players, and eyed Kageyama for a beat longer than the others. Tooru stifled a snigger.

“Nonetheless, we expect you to give it your all and be gracious about the result. This first match will allow us to test the waters, so to speak. Let’s welcome our visitors with a splendid show, shall we?” The last part his coach directed at his own team, and Tooru smirked, familiar pre-game adrenaline overriding some of his discomfort.

The captains shook hands, and the starting rosters took their positions. Tooru was the first setter in play, but neither Ushijima nor Kageyama were on the court. Tooru briefly wondered if they were the aces up the team’s sleeve. The Adlers took first serve, and soon the game was in full swing.

The Adlers were a formidable opponent. As they played, Tooru took stock of their members, many of whom Tooru had heard of back in school or through the murmurings of the professional circuit. The score remained neck and neck until Tooru saw an opportunity and seized it. The Adlers’ middle blocker was as sturdy as stone, but he favoured his right hand. He relied on the opposite to cover his weak left. When the ball was deflected on an attempted spike by the Adlers, Tooru traded glances with his captain; it didn’t matter how obvious the tell was. Tooru set the ball to adjust to his accuracy and sheer speed, and the ball was slammed dead center down on the middle blocker’s left hand, which gave way easily under the force. Tooru knew the smile that grew on his face was cocky as hell.

Points came easier for the San Juan team after that. They won the first set with a three-point lead. The Adlers’ coach called a time out, and the rosters were changed. Tooru was switched out, and Kageyama and Ushijima took to the court. He stood on the sidelines, restlessness disabling his ability to sit still. He crossed his arms as he watched Kageyama prepare to start the first volley. Kageyama had gained some muscle over the years, but his height made him look scrawny still. His eyes were wide, opened to the full length of the court. He tossed the ball into the air, jumped to attack it with grudgingly impressive height, and slammed it to the other side. The game continued.

The gears turned in Tooru’s head as he spectated, as he was free to concentrate fully on the opponent and their workings. The Adlers were an all-around skilled team, and it was not hard to see why they were in the first division. They knew better than to make the same mistakes they made when they were younger. Kageyama worked as part of a team, switching his own plays to better suit the slower spike of one teammate or the towering height of another. Tooru’s fingers clenched into fists.

They reached the mid-point of the set, with the Alders a couple points ahead. Ushijima had flown relatively under the radar. With some of the greatest in the world, his star darkened and its brilliance was lost amidst lights brighter than his. Tooru was thrown; it was hard to reconcile that bull-headed, stubborn boy of Shiratorizawa with this man who did not even seem to stand out.

Then Tooru saw it. The San Juan team had their strongest, most experienced blockers on the front line, and although Tooru knew nothing was for certain, he was pretty sure his team would end this volley in their favour, even if Ushijima rivaled them in height and build. Tooru was waiting for Kageyama to set for Ushijima, and finally, finally it happened.

Tooru didn’t think his expectations were too high. Sure, this was the boy—the man, he reminded himself—whose skill could, and possibly already had, exceeded Tooru’s own, working with the one responsible for Tooru’s numerous defeats. It was hard to determine if they would work well as a pair; Tooru envisioned it as bashing two rocks together. But there was no denying their combined capabilities would be a force to be reckoned with. There was one thing Tooru was not expecting, and that was the missed opportunity for greatness.

The Adlers regained control of the ball, and Kageyama chose to lay down the ace from his hand to finish the set. He sent the ball at lightning speed to Ushijima, who propelled his arm back and forward again, blasting it with immense strength through the San Juan blockers. It was a fine maneuver, and the two had clearly worked together enough to pull off the play. Yet Tooru noticed something lacking, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on with just one viewing. That had secured the Adlers the second set, but from Kageyama’s frown, Tooru could tell he was not satisfied.

Ushijima was powerful enough as it was with the faulty set. With a perfect one, well—no small part of Tooru wanted to witness it, see just how much harder and better and brighter Ushijima could become. His star would be radiant, blinding.

Tooru, however, would not be the one to cause the supernova. He would not allow it.

The third set brought Tooru back into play and shuffled Ushijima and Kageyama back out. His shirt was sticking to his back by the time the Adlers won the set by a small margin and claimed victory. Tooru was not as upset as he thought he would be; a good competition dulled the disappointment of loss.

The coaches offered everyone a good meal to toast the first match and bolster the friendship between the teams. Tooru, on his way to the locker room, saw Ushijima start to approach him from the corner of his eye before being stopped by his coach. After changing, Tooru let a teammate know he had an errand to run and snuck out of the locker room and into the night. His absence would be conspicuous, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t weaseled his way out of the game. Actually spending time off the court with them, that was not something he’d suffer through.

The celebration must have been a remarkable event, because Tooru woke in the morning to a video from his teammates. He pressed play out of habit with sleep still crusting his eyelids, and watched with one eye squinting against the brightness of the screen. The person filming the video had shoddy camerawork from the laughter he was holding back. Some of the Adlers were accompanied by Tooru’s teammates for their horribly off-key rendition of a Spanish pop song in a crowded pizza joint. Tooru was happy to see Kageyama being particularly loud and about two beats behind the rest. Ushijima was nowhere to be seen, probably out of frame. He seemed the type to have distaste for alcohol. Either that, or it would take the strongest stuff to get him the slightest bit tipsy.

Great. Everyone seemed to be getting along great. Tooru sniffed. He couldn’t even have the satisfaction of knowing his two rivals had trouble ingratiating themselves with Tooru’s team. He scrolled past the video and onto the next message, which let Tooru know they would again be playing together the next day. What happened to _a few sessions_? He groaned into his pillow and forced himself to get over it, but not without complaining to Iwaizumi first.

This time, the coaches threw a curveball. The teams would be mixed. Tooru bit his tongue; even he knew his own personal baggage had no place on the court. The coaches held a clipboard each and referred to them as they sorted the players. Ushijima and Kageyama were put into different teams, and Tooru knew he was screwed no matter the outcome. He stood as he as he waited for his name to be called, ignoring the eyes that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Oikawa,” the Adler’s coach called. “You’ll be on Hirugami’s team today.” He gestured to the left side of the court, where the Adlers’ captain waved a hand in greeting. Tooru had nothing against him and in fact thought he seemed to be all right, but he would be playing with Ushijima.

“I look forward to working with you,” Ushijima said, nodding to Tooru.

“Right back at you.” Tooru grimaced as he said it, earning a few funny looks. Ushijima turned back to Hirugami, oblivious.

There was less of a competitive edge today. They had all seen each other play, but being on the same teams meant having to adjust to unfamiliar styles and techniques and going head-to-head with allies they had already attuned themselves to. Tooru was swept up in making changes to his plays by the second, shifting his sets to accommodate the strengths and weaknesses of the Adlers that he had observed the other day. One called for less height and more speed on his set for his favoured quick spike, another was suited to pin-point accuracy that allowed for precise hits. It had been a while since Tooru got to strategize for players not on his own team, and it was exhilarating.

It soon came to the match point. Tooru’s team was about to take the set. The ball was bumped and Tooru prepared to send it as he mentally ran through his team’s positions. Hirugami would be a solid choice, but he had been marked for much of the game, preventing him from scoring as well as he could. Another player was far enough to spike from the back, but Tooru was unsure of his ability to perform it well.

Ushijima. He could blow past the blockers with ease. The other team’s defense was not as strong as it had been when Ushijima scored in the other match; the blockers now would fold like paper under Ushijima’s force. With Tooru’s set, Ushijima would be unstoppable, would burst into a thousand lights like a wonderful storm.

No. Tooru refused to set off the explosion. He grit his teeth and sent the ball coasting to Hirugami. Hirugami tried to get it past the blockers, but the move was seen from a mile away, as Tooru had predicted. The ball was deflected, and the other team scored.

Tooru’s misstep caused a losing streak for his team. Their lead was eliminated, and they lost the set. Tooru could sense his coach’s disappointment. So much for leaving his baggage out of the court, Tooru thought grimly. He was switched out before the next set and expected a lecture, but none came. That was worse, and Tooru braced himself for what would be coming after the match.

His team ended up losing the game, but none looked to have any hard feelings, clapping each other on the back and offering words of praise and advice. Ushijima was staring holes in Tooru’s head, and honestly Tooru couldn’t blame him, but he didn’t want to explain his bad play, didn’t even know if he could. How childish it would be for Tooru to admit some high school incidents kept him from being an effective player. But he wanted to witness what Ushijima could do, and the two sides were at a deadlock.

After some started heading back to the lockers, Tooru’s coach waved him over. Here it was. Tooru rolled his shoulders back and prepared to take what was coming.

“Tooru. Fine work, as usual,” his coach said. He held the clipboard with one hand while the other tapped a pen on it in a continuous rhythm. “You have shown your capabilities since you were first brought onto the team time and time again. You of all players are at the top of your game, but you keep raising the bar for yourself. It pleases me to see it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tooru couldn’t get comfortable just yet, but he allowed himself to preen a bit at the praise.

“You know why I wanted you here in the first place, do you not?” The question was rhetorical; he barely paused before continuing, “You are able to not only integrate yourself as a cog of a well-oiled machine, but you elevate your teammates. You see their faults and their strengths, and you work with them and make them the best they can be.”

Tooru drew a breath. It would be any second now.

“So tell me,” his coach said, hand stilling and pen resting on the board, “why you neglected to even try working with Wakatoshi? You did not set for him once, though there were opportunities that called for it. You saw that.”

Tooru nodded. Denial would get him nowhere. “Yes, I did.”

His coach sighed and shook his head. “It is unlike you to display such a lack of sportsmanship. I thought you able to support anyone and everyone on the court. I know you two have some history, but nothing should stop a great athlete from raising their teammates to new heights. I hope to see you become a better sport before the month is up, Tooru.”

The disappointment rolled off him in waves such that Tooru began to feel the same. If his coach was doubting Tooru’s skill and perhaps even his position on the team, Tooru could not give him further excuses to call him out.

Shit. He knew this would be awful, but the worst part was that it wasn’t even really Ushijima’s fault. Still, it made Tooru feel better to shift the blame onto him regardless.

“This is many of the Adlers’s first time to this city. If you can’t work through your issues on the court, then try a different course of action,” his coach suggested.

If Tooru thought he was in hot water before, then he just got tossed into the proverbial fire.

The locker room was still abuzz when Tooru entered, but he was in no mood to chat, and his teammates would surely want to know the details of his talk with their coach if they had not already figured it out. He almost made a peaceful exit from the gym when Ushijima caught him at the entrance. Tooru hadn’t seen him. If he had, he would have loitered as long as he could’ve at the lockers. Tooru shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Ushijima approached him. The sun was setting, and the dying light flooded through the glass walls to bathe them both.

“What can I do for you, Ushiwaka?” Tooru said, hand sweeping his hair back from his forehead. “Come to shower me with your adoration for my astounding play? Worry not, I’ll sign your jacket if you’d like.”

Ushijima fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Why did you not send me the ball? It was the most reasonable act to take. We would have been victorious.”

“Always so rational. So logical,” Tooru said flippantly. His reasons for neglecting Ushijima were neither, and Tooru knew it. “Yet you have no basis to believe we would have won. So what if the first set was ours? The tides can turn in an instant.”

“No. With our combined might, we could take on the best the world has to offer. I am certain of it.”

Tooru’s eyes expanded to saucers, and he let out a gut-busting laugh. “You’re serious,” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “What a thing to say to an opponent. Poor little Tobio, even now his own teammate doesn’t want to work with him.”

“That is not what I said.” Ushijima corrected in a tone adjacent to frustration. Tooru smirked. “We have learned to work as one and his skill is incredible, moreso now than when we were competitors—yet I am aware there is possibility for improvement, for both of us. I am confident you can draw out that improvement.”

“How did you know the way to my heart was through my ego?” Tooru said, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly. “Well, as they say, flattery will get you nowhere. Bye, Ushiwaka.” He moved to get around Ushijima, but an arm thrust out blocked his escape.

“What I told you before, in school. I still believe you could have been greater had you gone to Shiratorizawa. It is not too late to see what we can do together,” Ushijima said, even and with conviction.

Tooru hissed through his teeth. That familiar rage simmered under his skin until his hands shook. It spread and took control, and he knew he needed to make nice, knew he was capable of it, but Ushijima crumbled that choice to dust. How selfish, how stubborn Ushijima was to only see things his own way, how _typical_ of him. Tooru pushed him aside with all the force he could summon, but he still could not make Ushijima budge, who simply stepped aside for him.

“It was too late when you told me that for the first time, when you insulted the decisions I had chosen. I decided not to go to Shiratorizawa, and you see where that has gotten me,” Tooru said, low and venomous. “Now, excuse me if I refuse to work with the one who told me my team, my friends, were a hindrance.”

Tooru left the arena without another word. Ushijima did not follow him. Tooru’s forehead was dampened with sweat; their little encounter had set his heart racing. He worked out the pent-up energy on his jog home, his sneakers pounding the pavement as he imagined Ushijima’s star dimming to nothingness.

Tooru considered playing dumb. So what if the Adlers have never visited Buenos Aires before? But to pretend not to get the hint would insult his coach’s intelligence, not to mention his own. The coach’s reproof stung, and Tooru would need to follow up on his suggestion.

But to do so would mean actually being friendly with Ushijima, and that was a hard concept to wrap his mind around when Tooru had just chewed him out. Granted, Ushijima deserved it, but that would be a hard sell to the coach.

“What am I supposed to do?” His kitchen had no answers for him, and he continued eating some sugary, colourful cereal straight from the box. He had gone to bed early the previous night after trying and failing to concentrate on a recording of a match the San Juan team took part in last month. He woke up with a headache, and forced himself to make breakfast.

He didn’t care if he’d somehow offended Ushijima. The bigger problem was tempering his own hurt and anger. He needed to prove he could cooperate with and be an asset for Ushijima. He thought back to Ushijima’s egocentrism and unbending resolution, and he scoffed. There was a greater chance of a bull learning to walk delicately in a china shop.

Anyway, he didn’t have Ushijima’s contact information. It would be easy to obtain it, but did Tooru want to go through that much trouble? He still had the rest of the month. Surely they could have one successful pass before the Adlers left.

Thus resolved with really no plan in mind, Tooru pulled on a track jacket with matching pants, laced up his trainers, and went for a run in the neighborhood.

The sun was well on its way to its apex, and it beat down on Tooru as he wove through the usual avenues and side streets. He could make his way around blind now, but the first time around he had had to pull out his phone and try to follow the directions to his apartment. Many tiny alleys and roads were not on the map, though, and he’d had to ask in broken Spanish for directions from a woman walking her dog.

The area was close the stadium. It made sense for the Adlers to also be staying nearby, but that fact didn’t hit Tooru until he saw someone with black hair scaring a little child going past with a truly confused glare. Tooru paused, jogging in place at the mouth of an alley that opened up onto the main street. Kageyama caught sight of him. Tooru had not one moment to brace himself before Kageyama shouted, sending an elderly couple dining nearby jumping out of their seats.

“You are a walking disaster, Tobio. How have you survived this long without killing some poor and undeserving soul?” Tooru asked when he drew up to Kageyama. They were standing in front of a café blasting some old pop hits. The old couple muttered about rude children. Kageyama was no longer glaring, which was something.

“My phone died,” Kageyama said, pursing his lips at the device like he could set it aflame through sheer willpower. “I spent the last half hour trying to get back to the hotel, but I keep coming back to the same place.”

Tooru reached a hand up and flicked Kageyama in the forehead. Kageyama recoiled, and the utter annoyance on his face made Tooru laugh.

“What, do you think everyone will bite if you ask them a question? Idiot. Where’re you staying?”

“You’re helping me?” Kageyama was shocked, and Tooru was tempted to withdraw his question and leave him stranded here until the Adlers realized someone was missing.

“As much joy as it brings me to see you so clearly out of your element, you’re frightening the entire neighborhood just standing here. So spit it out.”

“The Faena—I think,” Kageyama said. “It’s big and red.”

Kageyama, ever the wordsmith. Luckily, Tooru didn’t need the help.

“Aren’t we fancy, Tobio. Being on the national team has its perks, huh?” He jogged to the end of the café’s outdoor terrace and when Kageyama failed to follow, he turned and called, “Hurry up, then. I don’t have all day.”

Kageyama was wearing a pair of short boots unsuited for running. Tooru kept short of his regular place but was sure to keep ahead of Kageyama as he led them through the cobbled streets.

“Thank you for your help yesterday,” Kageyama said. He wasn’t even slightly out of breath, and Tooru upped the speed.

“You should be thankful. The privilege to watch me in a game is a treasure.”

“I learned a lot from your team as well. But,“ Here Kageyama abruptly stopped speaking, Dread filled Tooru’s stomach as he remembered Kageyama’s dissatisfaction with his set.

“I would like your further help with something,” Kageyama said loudly, drawing some startled glances. “Please.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I wanted to say!”

“I don’t need to. I already know I don’t want to hear it.”

“Please,” Kageyama begged. “You’re the only one that can help me. I’ll do anything you ask.” It clearly pained him to admit to such a fault, and Tooru’s satisfaction wore down his resistance.

“That’s a dangerous offer to make, assuming I want anything from you. You’re really ready to do anything I’d like?”

“You won’t do anything dangerous. Right?” This last word was dripping in doubt.

“Stunning show of faith you have in your old upperclassman. I am overjoyed, really.”

“You were the one that said it was dangerous,” Kageyama protested.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out,” Tooru said as they came to a traffic light that just turned red. He had a feeling he knew what Kageyama had in mind. “But I make absolutely no promises.”

Kageyama’s run came to a standstill when he reached Tooru. He pinched the middle of his brow between forefinger and thumb, thinking hard about what to say. “I’ve been trying to perfectly acclimate my set to all my teammates, as a proper setter should. Sometimes it happens quickly, but sometimes it takes a while. For this one, I still haven’t—“

“No. You’re on your own. Offer me all you like; I will not be the one to help you.”

“I didn’t finish—“

“You want me to perfect your set for Ushiwaka.” Kageyama was agape, and Tooru continued. “You are an open book, Tobio. It’s obvious when things don’t go the way you want them to.” _And it’s even more obvious when Ushiwaka has already mentioned it_ , Tooru thought.

“You change your plays to the minute for each person you work with. It’s your specialty. I want your advice because no one else I know can do that,” Kageyama pushed on.

The light changed to green. Tooru crossed at a leisurely jog with Kageyama beside him. Having both Ushijima and Kageyama needling him for his admittedly terrific skill was beyond annoying. Did they think he would offer his help so freely? Tooru snorted in disbelief, and Kageyama cocked his head at him.

“Listen. Just because you came sniveling to me when we were children doesn’t mean you can do the same thing and expect the same result,” Tooru said. “We are competitors, and even you are not thickheaded enough to believe I would lend a hand.”

“You worked with Hinata,” Kageyama pointed out.

“Yeah? That’s ‘cause he’s not you.”

Kageyama pulled a face at him. “Why else? We’re all competitors, so why else won’t you help me?”

“I don’t need another reason.”

Tooru wasn’t exactly being a shining beacon of maturity, but he hadn’t lied. They were going past a tinted storefront when its door opened in Tooru’s face. He managed to halt in time to avoid slamming into the glass and breaking his nose.

“Ushijima,” Kageyama greeted with as much surprise as Tooru felt. Speak of the devil. Ushijima emerged from the entrance and shut the door behind him. He blinked when he saw Kageyama and Tooru, the latter of whom was extremely irritated and trying to recover from what would have been a tragic accident to his face.

“Were you not stepping out for a few minutes, Kageyama? You are far from the hotel,” Ushijima said. To Tooru, he added, “Oikawa. I wanted to speak with you. In private, if that is possible.”

“What?” Kageyama exclaimed at the same time as Tooru said, “No thanks.”

“Where’s the hotel?” Kageyama asked.

Ushijima pointed to the way they had come, at an enormous establishment that Tooru had gone past before running into Kageyama.

As soon as Kageyama whipped around to face him, Tooru let himself feel satisfied for a moment before he took off with a wave, ignoring Kageyama’s shouts and Ushijima’s lingering gaze.

Tooru had shaken Ushijima’s request to talk with him, but it was harder to do so on the days they played together. Ushijima approached him after the games, before the teams hung out together or retired for the day. Each time, Tooru managed to brush him off or leave without notice. This had the effect of making him look like a hermit, and it made him the target of pointed looks from his coach. Tooru made no effort to close the distance between him and Ushijima, on or off the court. If anything, the rift widened. Tooru knew the ball was with him, but he could not bring himself to do anything with it.

“What the hell?”

So when he turned on his phone to find a message from an unknown number, he paused the movie he had been watching.

 _Hello Oikawa, this is Ushijima_ , the message started. _I know you are busy, but I would like to speak with you. I owe you an apology for my actions._ A second message, sent a few minutes later, read, _I prefer to meet in person, but I understand if you would like to speak over the phone._

Tooru laughed out of surprise. Speak over the phone, when they were in the same building most days? The message was so prim and so proper, so seemingly sincere, that Tooru typed and sent a reply without thinking.

_How did you get my number?_

It was late in the evening, around ten. Tooru was planning on turning in soon, but now his brain was alight. An apology? Not that he thought Ushijima incapable of the act, but he was shocked that Ushijima thought he did something that required forgiveness. Ushijima seemed to act only on stone-cold reason, but here he was realizing that logic wasn’t always of the utmost importance.

Or this could be a way to fool Tooru into getting what he wanted, which was a preposterous idea. That kind of duplicity was a plan Tooru himself would pull off; Ushijima could not deceive a single person to save his life. Tooru’s phone buzzed, and he reached for it again. He had not unpaused the movie with how his mind ran overtime.

_I asked your teammates. I hope that was all right._

The answer was obvious in retrospect. His fingers hovered over the screen, torn between vindictiveness and hearing what Ushijima had to say. This was a rare opportunity to see behind Ushijima’s robotic mask, but did Tooru want that?

 _I guess I can take the time to meet you_ , he typed. _Meet me outside the arena tomorrow after practice._

If Ushijima already had something lined up, tough luck. Tooru wouldn’t give him another chance. A bubble popped up to notify him that Ushijima was typing, and within seconds he got a response.

_I will be there._

Tooru tossed his phone beside him onto the couch and stretched. He hoped he would not regret setting up an appointment, but there was nothing left to do but sleep. He could bail if he changed his mind.

The next day was damp. A fine mist clung to the earth and hung like a shroud as Tooru made his way to the stadium early in the morning. Little droplets started falling as he went through the glass doors and were still falling when he peeked outside hours later.

Practice had been awkward. His coach started pairing him with Ushijima for drills and while Ushijima was no different, Tooru found it hard to work through the tension even though he knew he needed to. The whole thing was disappointing all around, but mostly for his coach.

As Tooru shouldered his bag and walked out of the court, he saw Ushijima through the glass walls already standing outside underneath the metal awning covering the entrance. He nodded at Tooru in greeting when Tooru came up to him.

“The rain doesn’t look like it will stop. I know a place nearby we could sit,” Ushijima offered.

Tooru raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was the one who’s been living here. How do you already ‘know a place?’”

“I have been there once,” Ushijima said, “but that was enough to notice the quality of their products.”

The walk was thankfully short and led to a tiny bakery with a cozy seating area that smelled deliciously of warm caramel and vanilla. Tooru hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the aroma made his stomach growl. Ushijima held the door open for him, but Tooru waffled on the doorstep. He would have to _sit down and talk_ with Ushijima. He’d wanted to have a brisk chat at the waterfront or on the way home, but now he’d have to actually sit at the same table having a bite together like they were friends. It boggled the mind.

Ushijima cleared his throat and Tooru flushed, finally accepting the invitation. He swiped his shoes on the welcome mat so as to not track in any wet footprints. The bakery was quaint, with small wooden tables filled from edge to edge with trays of sweets and pastries. The young woman manning the counter looked up and her face brightened when she saw Ushijima. Tooru supposed she was a fan, and it may have been his ego speaking, but he was surprised she didn’t recognize Tooru himself.

“It’s the volleyball player,” she said in Spanish, “and you’ve brought a friend.”

Tooru kept quiet, eager to see this play out. Ushijima walked up and bowed slightly. In stilted English, he said, “It is nice to see you again.”

The woman put her elbows on the counter and leaned forward eagerly. “Again so polite. Will you have the same tea?”

Ushijima nodded. To Tooru, he said in Japanese, “Choose whatever you would like.”

Taking this as confirmation he wouldn’t be picking up the bill, Tooru took a tray and some tongs from a table and started looking through the offerings. The prices were low but if Tooru got everything he wanted, the total would add up quickly. More importantly, he wouldn’t be able to eat through half of it. He ended up choosing an empanada that smelled of onions and garlic, and a flaky croissant smothered in dulce de leche. When he brought his tray to the till, the woman was chatting away about her brother’s aspiration to play volleyball professionally. Ushijima nodded along at the right parts, but he was saved from having to make any verbal response by her incessant speech.

“If you want to talk to a real pro, you’re looking at him,” Tooru said. His Spanish was spotty, but he got the point across.

“I know,” she said in the same language, “he’s one of the best in Japan.”

Ushijima turned to him as if asking for a translation. Tooru waved him away and said, “I’ve seen better. Pop by the stadium a block away and you might see me playing.”

She looked him up and down. “You? What team do you play for?”

Tooru felt more than slighted. “I’ll be representing this very country. Keep an eye out for me at the Olympics next year.” He winked and pushed his tray to her, letting her ring him up.

“How confident. I like that,” she said as she poured out some boiling tea into a cup. When the total showed up on the register, Ushijima pulled out a sleek black wallet and paid for the orders. They took seats at a small table in front of a window.

“What were you speaking of?” Ushijima asked. He swirled the tea in his cup with a tiny spoon that, in his hand, looked like part of doll’s play set.

“She wanted to know when my next game was. She’s so excited, and all for plain old me.”

“Of all the ways to describe you, I could not find falser words.”

“I assume you would also not use _modest_ ,” Tooru said as he pulled back the paper wrapped around his empanada. He still had his misgivings about this whole thing, but he had to admit that Ushijima was starting it off on the right foot. He could almost melt into the velvety chair cushions after the exhausting practice, and the pastry was so good that he promised himself a return visit. It was almost enough for Tooru to let his guard down.

“Indeed, I would not. But you have no reason to be modest. Why would you minimize your skill?”

“I thought you didn’t like arrogance.”

“Only when it is unjustified.”

Tooru let the strange, roundabout compliment sink in. They lapsed into silence. Ushijima was unbothered, sipping his drink and watching the people go by with their multicoloured umbrellas. Tooru finished polishing off his first item when he said, “So. What did you want to say to me?”

Ushijima looked to him, and his eyes narrowed. He was not angry; it looked more like he was concentrating on picking through his words for once.

“When we spoke previously, I know I hurt you in some way,” Ushijima said. His eyes were on Tooru the whole time, and his fingers were threaded together on the table. “I don’t have a way with words like you do. I am—direct, even when it is not called for. I would like to try again to rephrase what I wanted to say, and offer clarification.”

He paused like he was waiting for permission to continue. Tooru crossed his arms and leaned back. He did not interrupt, and Ushijima went on.

“I had told you Shiratorizawa was the best training ground for you to hone your abilities. I still think that, but that is because it was simply the best at the sport. I see now how you wished to work with those you held dear. It was not my place to criticize your reasons, especially when I could not empathize. I had not realized I had hurt you. I often do not know how my nature can affect others, even if my intention is not to harm, and I ask for your forgiveness, Oikawa.”

Tooru took a napkin from his tray and started folding it over and over as he thought. Ushijima’s comments at the arena the other day may have torn open some sutures. He had been selfish and uncaring. Tooru had always considered Ushijima’s unawareness, but Tooru thought his own anger had been so obvious back then and now that it would have gotten through that obliviousness. If Ushijima finally realized what he had done and expressed remorse, a weight would start to leave Tooru at last, a weight he hadn’t known was so heavy. He could move past this. He replaced the napkin, now in a minuscule square, and looked Ushijima in the eye.

“You’re right. You don’t have a way with words,” he said. Ushijima tensed, his shoulders tightening. “But sure. I accept your apology.”

“Oh,” Ushijima said. He took a deep breath, and Tooru realized Ushijima had been nervous. That was novel. Tooru didn’t think anything stressed him, let alone a long-forgotten one-sided quarrel with a competitor.

“Thank you.” And there it was, the biggest surprise of all: Ushijima smiled. It was slight, but it was honest and sincere. It was a better look than his usual stoicism.

Tooru picked up his croissant. “That doesn’t mean I’ll help you, or set to you. To lay all my cards on the table as you have done, I still don’t really like you.”

“That is fine,” Ushijima said. He finished his tea, and it clinked against its saucer when he put the cup down. “As long as there are no misunderstandings between us.”

Well, this was more painless than Tooru thought it would be. He tore off a piece of his croissant and popped it in his mouth.

“Is it?” He asked after swallowing. “Tobio will still throw you shitty sets. That was the whole reason why this happened in the first place.”

“They are not bad. Things that can be improved are not always terrible,” Ushijima explained with a tireless patience. “The rift in our relationship is unrelated to my current predicament with Kageyama. Please, pay my former request to you no mind.”

“If you say so,” Tooru said. Kageyama would more than likely annoy Tooru enough to make up for Ushijima.

It was only a few minutes before Tooru finished eating. They stood, and Tooru put the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. Ushijima held a hand out. Tooru stared at it.

“I hope we can become friends,” Ushijima said.

 _We’ll see_ , Tooru thought. He took Ushijima’s hand in a firm shake, and its warmth seeped into Tooru’s skin.

He began setting for Ushijima despite what Tooru had said, but they were faulty plays, too slow or too fast or too weak. The coach saw the improvement but did not mention the botched sets. If Tooru didn’t change his playing, he would be getting another lecture. Ushijima, for his part, still never failed to hit these sets, and he never voiced the dissatisfaction he must have had. Everyone knew Tooru could do better, most of all Tooru himself.

Tooru wanted the upper ground, wanted to be above this petty behavior, but he was planted in the muck. The memories, the blood, sweat and tears from that period in his life tugged him down. He did not want to, could not do what his coach, Ushijima or Kageyama wanted.

But with a bridge starting to be built between him and Ushijima, Tooru really had no excuse to dodge any after-practice hangouts. Several of his team was busy with other jobs while others had families to get back to. Those that were free had taken some of the Adlers sightseeing or drinking or eating. Tooru had not been present for any of it, and when he finally deigned to come to dinner on a Friday night, his appearance was met with a round of applause.

“Look who decided to join us for once. Tore yourself away from the court, did you?” his team captain, Gabriel, said. He raised his hand to order a cocktail for Tooru; they all knew he hated the bitterness of beer.

“I figured it was time I grace you with the gift of my company.” The table would have been barely suitable for a group of high schoolers. For almost half a team’s worth of adult athletes, there was no room to stretch and everyone was elbow-to-elbow. The only empty seat was beside Kageyama, who was staring at him like a puzzle piece. Ushijima was a few seats down on the other side of the table. Tooru reluctantly took the free chair.

“And it had nothing to do with the storied histories you have with some of your acquaintances. Obviously,” another teammate said.

“I have no possible idea what you could mean. I was nothing but the picture of youthful innocence.”

“What are you guys saying,” cried one of the Adlers, his shock of white hair sticking up in tufts. Tooru vaguely recalled his name as Hoshiumi. “Translation, please.”

Gabriel attempted to speak in broken Japanese. Tooru’s team had picked up bits of the language from him over the years, but he was more proficient in Spanish they were in his language. “Tooru doesn’t get along with his old friends. Usually he spends time with us. But not this week.”

“I am glad you chose to come today,” Ushijima said, his mouth still completely flat but with genuine warmth in his voice, like there was when he offered his input to his teammates. It was strangely comforting.

A ripple of agreement ran through the group, and Tooru was clapped on the shoulder by a neighbor. Kageyama hadn’t made a sound, and he had moved his stare to the table in front of him.

“Don’t feel the same way, Tobio?” Tooru joked. Kageyama probably felt as uncomfortable with Tooru as Tooru did with Kageyama, but Tooru did a much better job of hiding it.

“I do. It’s nice to see a familiar face. I guess,” Kageyama said with an odd mixture of distaste and respect. Tooru wasn’t expecting the backhanded praise, and he laughed.

“He’s asked after you every time we’ve gone out.” This came from Gabriel, who only smiled when Kageyama blanched.

The meal passed quickly, and drinks were refilled often. Ushijima and Kageyama made no mention of their previous run-ins with him, even though he was sure Kageyama had asked about him only because Kageyama wanted his help. The Adlers were nonetheless pleasant company, and when it came time for the bill, Hirugami brought out a small wad of cash. The party separated at the entrance. The night was cool, and it felt great on Tooru’s skin after the muskiness of the dim restaurant.

All in all, Tooru did not regret coming as he thought he might’ve. They’d not had a visiting team in a while, and it was entertaining to have some new blood (and old) to chat with. They bid their goodbyes. The Adlers’ hotel was nearby and in the same direction as Tooru’s apartment, so he accompanied the group heading that way. Gabriel pulled him aside, and they followed behind the rest by a few paces.

“Is this about me not dropping by more often? I didn’t think I was missed that terribly,” Tooru said.

Gabriel shook his head. “We’ve all got things on our plate. I’m not going to begrudge you for skipping out. I just have a favour I want to ask you.”

“Hm? What is it?” This was a rare occurrence; Gabriel’s dependability was part of why he was chosen as captain.

“I promised I’d take someone to Iguazu for a short trip, since it’s their first time in the country. But,” the captain hesitated, “my sister just called. She has to leave for the weekend on business, and I need to take care of my niece. I know this is really short notice, but I’d rather not cancel the trip.”

The odd phrasing pinged something in Tooru’s brain. “Who is it? Don’t tell me—“

“I’ve noticed you have something strange going on with Wakatoshi. You don’t have to be best friends, just accompany him there and back. He’s really been looking forward to this, and I don’t want to make him go alone.”

“He’s not a child. Can’t he figure it out like a sensible adult?” Tooru complained. “And you know how far it is. This isn’t some easy trip.”

“I already bought plane tickets. I can transfer mine to you, and you won’t have to pay a thing the whole time.”

The Adlers were oblivious, absorbed in their own conversations and stopping to look into store windows. Ushijima was with Romero, and his quiet comments were completely mismatched with Romero’s exaggerated hand gestures. Tooru ground his teeth.

“You know we’re not on the best of terms, yet you still asked me? That’s bold of you,” Tooru said.

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “I figured it’d be more comforting for him to go with someone he already knows. I can ask somebody else if you don’t want to do it.”

 _Would_ it be comforting, for either Ushijima or Tooru? Tooru didn't know. He sighed. “Did coach put you up to this?”

“What?” Gabriel exclaimed. “He wouldn’t do that. It seems like a lot of trouble, don’t you think?”

It would. The question had been a joke, anyway. “Okay, I’ll do it. But I won’t forget that you owe me for this.” It was only for a day. How bad could it be?

Later, Tooru was in the middle of packing a bag for the trip when his phone dinged with a couple messages from Gabriel. The first read, _Here are the details for the hotel. Have fun!_

The _hotel_? How devious, waiting until Tooru had already accepted to drop the most insidious detail of this entire arrangement. If he weren’t annoyed, he would’ve found it impressive. He considered going back on his word as he fumed around his apartment in the middle of the night, but in the end he rearranged his things into a small suitcase and tried not to think about having to bunk with Ushijima. He hoped Gabriel booked two rooms.

“Oikawa? Why are you here?”

Tooru’s mouth twitched. “Excuse me? Is that any way to greet the person who so generously offered to take you to the Falls?”

“I was not expecting you. It is, however, nice to see you,” Ushijima said. He recovered quickly from his confusion and strode out of the hotel lobby, leaving Tooru glaring at the back of his head.

“Gabriel wanted to be here, but something came up. So he called in the cavalry and all that,” Tooru said, wanting to explain himself. He followed Ushijima to the waiting taxi Tooru had left behind. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ushiwaka.”

“On the contrary, I can assure you I am far from disappointed.”

That could have meant Ushijima was happy, but Tooru couldn’t tell without seeing his face. Not that it mattered. They crammed their bags into the vehicle, got into the taxi with Tooru in the passenger’s seat, and rode to the airport bright and early. The traffic was mild for a Saturday morning, and they made it to the airport with time to spare before their flight.

Tooru had only been here a few times. He used the international airport more often than not; this one was mostly domestic. They checked in at the counter and went through security. Tooru checked his watch when they were done. An hour remained before takeoff. He coughed.

It was almost hilariously awkward between him and Ushijima. They hadn’t spoken on the drive over, with Tooru being too tired and unwilling to start conversation, as he’d been unable to sleep until early morning. He didn’t know how talkative Ushijima normally was, but his guess was: not very. He yawned unabashedly as they stowed their passports.

“I’m gonna go to the gate.”

“Already?” Ushijima said. “If you like, we could have breakfast. There seems to be a variety of options here.”

“Grab me a sandwich or something.” Tooru yawned again. “See you later.”

He was being an awful host, he knew, but damn it, this was Ushijima he was talking about. If Gabriel cared about being proper, he should’ve asked someone else. Tooru walked to the gate and plopped down into a seat, putting his backpack in his lap. There were only a few other people, but it was still early. He pulled up on his phone the itinerary Gabriel had given him before calling the taxi for him earlier today. Gabriel had booked a mid-morning flight, hoping to make best use of the day before needing to head back on Sunday. Tooru had already been to the Falls his first month here—a couple of his new teammates had taken him. It was a spectacular sight, sure, but he wished he could enjoy it this time around.

 _Be optimistic_ , he thought as he started to doze off. The seats were hard and dug into his back, but he managed to fall asleep.

“-kawa. Wake up.”

The voice was gentle, which made shaking off sleep an even harder task. He pushed the side of his face farther into the top of his bag. The material chafed against his skin, but he wasn’t ready to get up.

“They’re boarding passengers now.” The hand on Tooru’s arm was warm, and he leaned into it a little.

“Oikawa.” This time the voice was closer to Tooru’s ear. The unexpected puff of breath shocked Tooru into quickly lifting his head.

“How long was I out for?” Tooru scooted aside to make some space between them. Sure enough, an airline employee was currently making an announcement about boarding for their flight.

“I just arrived. It cannot have been too long. Are you feeling well?” Ushijima was holding a small plastic bag, and he sounded concerned. Tooru stood, in part to shake off the intimacy that had taken hold of them. It wasn’t awful, just strange, and that fact was disturbing in itself.

“Absolutely peachy. The excitement got to me and I couldn’t really get to sleep last night, that’s all. We should get going before we get left behind.”

Ushijima followed as Tooru went to join the line for boarding, but it looked like he wanted to say something else. There were a few more people than there had appeared to be when Tooru sat down, and they all looked to be tourists with their large cameras and hiking bags. The two of them were able to proceed through the gate and find their seats without issue. It was a tiny plane with only four seats per a row separated in half by a single aisle. Tooru was first, and he took the window seat without asking if Ushijima preferred to have it. Tooru didn’t want to be woken in case Ushijima needed to get up. They settled in and Tooru took out his phone and a pair of earbuds. The flight was short, but he wasn’t going to try to make small talk.

As he plugged his earbuds into his phone, Ushijima spoke up. “Please tell me if you are unwell. I was not aware Gabriel had burdened you with this, and I apologize for imposing,” he said, over the roar of the engines starting up. “I want to try my best to put you at ease. Let me know if I am making you uncomfortable.”

Guilt started to gnaw at Tooru’s insides. Ushijima wasn’t trying to shame him, nor was he being derisive. It wasn’t even his fault that Tooru was here, yet Tooru was being cold. He could pin many things on Ushijima, but not this. He tried to smile.

“No, it’s not you. Not this time,” he teased, and Ushijima’s lips quirked. “I’m not as well-rested as I should be for an outing like this. Trust me, all my displeasure is Gabriel’s fault. If I’m coarser than usual, it’s mostly because of that.”

It was possibly the kindest he’s been to Ushijima, and part of him refused to dwell on that. He was not going to make this weekend more miserable for the both of them by being an ass, as tempting as it was.

“I am glad,” Ushijima said. Then, “Are you hungry?”

“Actually, yeah. It’s only a couple hours until we get there, though.”

Ushijima handed him the plastic bag he’d been holding. Curious, Tooru looked inside and saw a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water. “You didn’t need to,” he said, even as he started unwrapping the food. He had forgotten about his offhand request when they’d separated at the airport. Ushijima evidently hadn’t, and this time the smile came effortlessly to Tooru’s face.

“How’d you know I like this?” A nice chunk of chorizo stuck out from between two buns. It was a bit heavy for brunch, but he took a bite and savored the spice.

“You’ve eaten it a couple times before practice,” Ushijima answered. He was utterly stoic, and it was like any possible embarrassment of his was transferred to Tooru, whose neck felt warm.

“Watching me, Ushiwaka? Am I that distracting?”

Ushijima nodded. “I like watching you play. Your command of the ball is incredible to see.”

Tooru looked away to the food in his hands. As Tooru was someone who was rarely straightforward, Ushijima’s sincerity flushed him with warmth and unsettled him. Tooru was flirty with friend and foe alike, and he enjoyed eliciting annoyance or reciprocation laced with the same humour. Only the truly oblivious were candid, or those who were attracted to him.

“Did I upset you?” Ushijima asked, mistaking Tooru’s silence for anger.

“Compliments are my weakness. Be careful with them,” Tooru chided.

Ushijima smiled. “I will take care.”

Aside from a bit of turbulence, the flight was uneventful. Tooru had fallen asleep soon after eating, leaving Ushijima to entertain himself. When Tooru woke as the plane was taxing on arrival, Ushijima was looking at an ad in the free magazine the airline provided. It was for limited edition nail polish in miniature sizes and vivid colours.

“Looking to revitalize your look?” Tooru said, mouth dry and gummy. “There are worse ways.”

“It would be for my sister. Her birthday is soon.” Ushijima glanced at him before returning his attention to the ad.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She is several years younger than us. You would not have seen her; she is the most disinterested a person can be in volleyball, and she did not watch any of our matches.”

Tooru drank half his water bottle in one go, and said, “Mine pretends to be interested, which I suppose is better. You’ve probably seen her, she used to watch when I was a kid and started again when I began playing professionally. Got a lot more supportive once I got into the big leagues.”

“She is older? I remember thinking she was your mother.”

“She wouldn’t be pleased at all to hear that,” Tooru cackled.

They deplaned, with Ushijima’s bag about five small nail polish bottles heavier. The crowds appeared when they took the bus en route to the hotel. It was the same place Tooru had stayed previously, and with Garbiel’s directions they were able to find the way easily along with everyone else who decided to spend the weekend here. The ride was scenic and wound through lush green, but Tooru’s enjoyment was hampered by having to stand the whole way with a child stepping on his foot every five seconds. Ushijima was beside him and holding onto a handgrip hanging from the ceiling. He was a useful shield between Tooru and the rest of the passengers.

Soon they were finally, finally at the hotel. It was as luxurious as the one the Adlers were residing in, and Tooru was thankful he wouldn’t have to pay. The lobby was as big as the length of the arena, finished in lightwood and offering a wide view of the Falls and the surrounding forest through the glass front wall. They sadly wouldn’t have time to enjoy most of the facilities, but the view more than made up for the cost.

When the staff at the front desk dropped two keys into Tooru’s palm, both with the same number engraved into them, it confirmed the possibility he’d been dreading the most.

“Are you sure we only have one room?” he asked, although he knew the answer. He’d seen the details of the booking after Gabriel had sent them.

“Yes, sir,” the woman said pleasantly. “All of our other suites are booked for the night, as well.”

Giving up any hope of his captain pulling a fast one on him, Tooru thanked the staff and went to fetch Ushijima, who was looking out through the glass and at the vista before them.

“Bad news. We’ll have to share,” Tooru said, key ring swinging around a finger.

“It is fine. We will not be here for most of the trip.”

“Do you snore? You seem like you snore.”

“I have not been told that I do.”

“All right. If you say so,” Tooru hummed. He glanced sidelong at Ushijima. A minute smile was on his lips, and his eyes were wide with something akin to wonder. It was not the excitement of the court, that wild, frenetic thrill. No, this was something calmer, purer. Tooru could see now why Gabriel did not want to dash that expression of rapture.

“Come on,” he said, and he gave Ushijima one of the keys. “Let’s not waste daylight.”

The room, thank god, had two beds. It was spacious with wide windows and bright colours. Tooru went straight for the one farther from the door and dumped his bag on it, staking his claim. Ushijima did not complain as he carefully placed his things on the other bed. After they took a quick break, they were ready and out the room in short order, door locked and overnight bags left behind. The hotel was already inside the park, so it was a short distance to the start of most of the hiking trails. It was humid and damp, and Tooru looked forward to cooling down when they neared the Falls.

“What kind of route do you want? They’re all probably pretty crowded, but the harder ones will have fewer people,” Tooru said as they walked.

“I prefer less traffic, but I will follow your lead.”

And so they set off along the upper circuit that allowed views of the grand falls from above. The sight was as majestic as Tooru remembered it being, with numerous waterfalls flowing into a giant basin. The curtains of crystalline water were a natural gem of this part of the continent, and Tooru had made sure to visit soon after landing for the first time.

Their pace was quicker than most. They also wanted to see as much as they could before the park closed. They crossed bridges spanning the river, and they took several breaks to watch the crocodiles resting on the banks of the stream. Ushijima had a camera looped around his neck, the fancy kind Tooru always wanted but could never justify getting. He snapped a few pictures with his smartphone as he waited for Ushijima to finish taking shots of a coati lounging on a branch and waiting to grab some unwitting tourist’s snack, and the vast canopy of trees that seemed to spring from the fountain of the Falls. Tooru didn’t deem Ushijima as the type to be a shutterbug, and he didn’t bother him as he shot away, instead reveling in this sanctuary away from the city. The exhaustion had abated somewhat, but he still yawned when Ushijima wasn’t looking and rubbed the moisture from his eyes.

They reached the main lookout point before three. It was a large wooden deck overlooking the top of one of the waterfalls and surrounded on all sides by the walls of the basin, composed of rushing streams between thick forests. Tooru crossed to a wide, empty space at the railing and leaned out. The spray couldn’t reach him here, but it was still cooler than where they had started from. He closed his eyes, and he breathed in the musk of the trees.

“Oikawa.”

He looked back. The telltale click of a shutter sounded before he could register Ushijima with his camera aloft. Tooru stared at him as Ushijima lowered the device to reveal a chagrined frown and a light blush.

“Forgive me. I acted out of impulse; I can delete the picture,” Ushijima said, already flicking the wheel on the camera to access his album.

“I am always a fantastic model. It can’t be helped your camera practically acted on its own will.” Tooru made a show of dramatically running a hand through his hair, and the over-the-top performance made Ushijima crack a smile. “But if you’re going to do that, you better do it properly.”

Tooru zipped open a small side pocket of his rucksack and pulled out his cellphone. He unlocked it, accessed the camera application, and held it out in front of him.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “Get in here. It’s not every day you get the chance to take a picture with me.”

Surprise stole across Ushijima’s features, his eyebrows rising and mouth opening a fraction. He went to Tooru’s side without a word but hesitated upon approach.

“This can’t be your first time taking one of these.” As socially inept as Ushijima may have been, Tooru knew for a fact he had friends.

“I have never known what to do when I am having my picture taken,” Ushijima confessed.

“First, don’t look angry. No one wants to be glared at. Be friendly and open even if you don’t feel like it. Uncross your arms, and do something else with them.” Tooru placed the elbow of his free arm on the railing. “And most importantly, smile. A smile can turn a terrible picture into a great one.”

Ushijima’s process of following Tooru’s instructions was fascinating to watch. He undid the narrowing of his eyes, ironed out the kink of his brow, put his arms at his sides. Each direction was followed to the tee, but he looked unnatural, like a doll Tooru posed with its ball joints and plasticky skin.

“Actually, it’s most important to be natural. Do what’s comfortable for you,” Tooru said, before Ushijima could try to smile.

Tooru didn’t pull Ushijima close, as he would have with a friend. Their shoulders brushed as Tooru angled the phone just right. He made a peace sign and counted down from three, and then he snapped the shot. They checked the picture after, and it was a job well done. The both of them fit perfectly into the frame, with the Falls resplendent behind them. Tooru was flashing a carefree grin, and Ushijima was sporting a modest smile that turned the corners of his lips upward. This suited him far better than Tooru’s advice had.

“Not bad,” Tooru said, and he instantly opened his chat with Iwaizumi to send the picture over. He was going to give Iwaizumi the shock of his life.

Tooru’s energy started to flag when they descended and began taking the lower circuit, a path winding around the base of the falls. The short naps at the airport and on the plane had helped somewhat, but the burst they provided had faded. Still, Tooru, being no stranger to sleepless nights, trudged on. After wrapping up here, he would have a nice long soak in the hotel.

There were fewer visitors about now. The walkways were damp with the water from the Falls, and Ushijima stowed his camera to avoid getting it wet. They barely spoke, but Tooru found he didn’t mind the silence. It was not heavy as it would have been when they were younger. When Ushijima broke the quiet as they neared a steep stairway down to a couple boats and a closer view of the waterfalls, Tooru needed a moment to register what he’d said.

“It may not be my place to ask, but I have been wondering about something.”

“Ushiwaka, you don’t need my permission to do something. Just ask and either I’ll answer or I won’t.”

Ushijima nodded, although he smiled wryly. “I do not think anything is that simple when it comes to you.”

“All I’m hearing is that I am a man filled with complexity.”

“Why did you come to Argentina?”

Tooru almost slipped on the steps. Ushijima shot an arm out and caught his elbow before he could fall. Tooru shook him off and continued descending down the stairs.

“My, what a big question. You haven’t heard?” Tooru said to distract from his almost-spill.

“These steps are slippery from the waterfalls, and you are starting to get tired. We can go back,” Ushijima offered politely.

It wasn’t a challenge, but Tooru still took it as such. He waved a hand in dismissal. “Sendai is a small place. And thanks to your formerly poor selfie game, I know Iwaizumi could’ve told you.”

“I did not want to ask anyone else. It is a private question.”

“If you really want to know,” Tooru said, “I’ve always admired a player from here. Idolized, you could say. At any rate, he’s the reason I’m a setter at all. Playing here was my dream, and I have never been closer.”

“Ah,” Ushijima breathed, and that single sound encapsulated his sudden understanding. Tooru would have turned back to see Ushijima’s face if he wasn’t concentrated on not breaking his neck. “That is why you left Japan, despite the much easier time you would have had there. You were beginning to make a name for yourself as a high school student; it would have been possible for you to be scouted for the national team.”

“When have I ever made things easy for myself? Anyway, I’ve never seen myself playing for Japan, which I’m sure is a great disappointment for you.”

Ushijima was silent for a moment, and then said, “I would not call it a disappointment. I looked forward to our matches during school. I still am, when we will compete in a more professional capacity.”

“You say it like it’s inevitable.”

“I believe it is. We will be on our national teams, and we will need to face each other in the end. I am excited to see who is superior.”

“You say I challenged myself by leaving,” Tooru said, retracing the conversation. “But I think vying for a top spot in Japan is more difficult than you make it seem, hm?”

“Perhaps I understated the difficulty. The competition is fierce, it is true, but I have no doubts that you would have risen above the rest. Your team is filled with talented players that have polished that talent to a shine, and you still stand out. In Japan, only those who are ignorant would be unable to see your prowess.”

“Again with the flattery,” Tooru exclaimed. They were almost at the bottom now, but it was the steepest here. “You must get a kick out of lavishing me with praise. Is it some game of yours, Ushiwaka? Do you want something from me? Actually, don’t answer that. I know you do, Tobio’s also let me know with that creepy fervor of his.”

“It is my honest opinion. If you take it as flattery, I see no problem with it,” Ushijima said. “And I am not trying to have you set to me. My ulterior motive is not of that nature.”

“ _What_?” Tooru yelped.

The next few seconds flashed by like a stroke of lightning. Later, Tooru would be able to recall them with vivid disbelief. He whipped around to face Ushijima after that frankly _flirtatious_ comment, but the next step was particularly low, and he misjudged. The next thing he knew, his ankle exploded with a burst of pain, and he would’ve also gotten hit with something worse if Ushijima had not grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

“Shit,” Tooru hissed. Luckily there was no one behind them, so he took his time gingerly testing his foot. It was not unbearable, but he would be out for several weeks. “ _Fuck_ ,” he swore again.

“We are going back.” Ushijima’s brow was knitted in concern, but his voice allowed no argument. Tooru was not going to disagree, at least this time.

“You should have been more careful.”

“Okay,” Tooru said, his Spanish sounding rude even to him. He forced a politer tone as he pressed a half-melted ice pack to his ankle. “I know. How long will it take to recover?”

The doctor, an old man with graying hair, stood from the armchair placed beside the bed. He hummed and hawed over Tooru’s ankle propped up on a pile of fluffy pillows. Ushijima sat on the edge of the other bed, stiff and watchful.

“I’ve seen you before,” the doctor said, looking at Tooru over the top of his tiny spectacles. Tooru tried not to sigh.

“Have you?” he asked.

“On the television. My wife’s watched some of your games.”

Tooru preened at this. He sat up straighter against the mound of pillows at his back.

“Which is why you should have known better. Your livelihood depends on the condition of your body. Careless, careless,” the doctor tsked. “If you follow the exercises I prescribe you and keep away from strenuous activity, you should be fine to go in two weeks.”

Two weeks. It would be tough, but he would have to work through it. The coach would have his hide, though, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his team.

Tooru and Ushijima thanked the doctor. After more instruction and fussing, he sauntered out of the room. Ushijima lowered himself into the chair the doctor had been sitting in.

“How are you?” he said.

“Never been better. Sure, I could have died, but that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?” Tooru half-joked. “It kills me to say this, but thanks for stopping me from falling on my face. I don’t know what I would do if it was ruined. But this will only be for two weeks.”

“You are thanking me? It was through my doing that you slipped.” Ushijima’s voice was fierce, and his hands clenched on his knees.

“Don’t go feeling all guilty on me. I should have been more careful, as the good doc said.” Tooru very deliberately did not mention the cause of his blunder, as he could not even discern if he had read too much into it now, and why make things awkward when they were getting along surprisingly well? “But if you want to beg for my pardon, by all means, go ahead.”

Ushijima gave a pained smile. “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Apology accepted, if you call my coach for me. Tell him I fell rescuing a drowning puppy or something.”

Tooru busied himself with his own phone as Ushijima dialed the number. Iwaizumi hadn’t responded yet with time differences being what they were in addition to his busy schedule. Tooru heard a muffled ring for a few beats, then his coach’s voice. Ushijima told him in English an abbreviated version of the incident that stuck to the facts. Disappointing. Tooru’s gaze wandered from his phone screen to Ushijima’s lips and the way they barely moved when he spoke, at the musculature of his arms that strained against his shirt.

“So?” Tooru said when Ushijima hung up. His face burned when he realized he had been too distracted to listen to the conversation.

“He was calm. I did not think he was upset.”

“That’s when he’s at his worst,” Tooru groaned. “If you had just told him I was trying to save some poor child, he would’ve gone easy on me for once.”

“The consequences would be more severe had he found out you hid the truth,” Ushijima sensibly explained. He went to the minifridge to retrieve another ice pack, and Tooru pointedly did not look at his back or the shifting of his shoulder blades, nor did he imagine his own hands clutching onto that back and the marks they would leave behind.

“We’ll see how you feel when we go to the gym on Monday.” Tooru took the ice pack and held the old one out for Ushijima to take. He grimaced at the cold. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Do you mind repeating that again?

As Tooru had suspected, his coach was smiling. It was serene, like the ripples on a lake. Ushijima was about to find out what lurked beneath.

“Oikawa’s injury is due to my negligence,” Ushijima interrupted. He bowed, with his upper body parallel to the floor. “I take full responsibility.”

Oh god. That was just going to make it worse, despite Ushijima’s good intentions. Tooru grabbed him by the back of his jersey and pulled him up. “It was an accident, nothing less and nothing more. The physician said I’d only be out two weeks. I won’t miss any games and I don’t even need crutches. I’m just surprised I didn’t break it.”

His coach’s nostrils flared. Tooru’s grin froze on his face. Maybe the lackadaisical attitude was a bad choice.

“First it’s this, but what’s next? A twisted arm? A broken leg?” The coach grasped at straws, but Tooru wasn’t going to tell him that. “This isn’t about your absence from the team, Tooru. It’s about your well-being. You are at the top of your game; your health needs to be your top priority. And you know how you take care of yourself? By watching where the hell you’re going. And you,” he said to Ushijima, whose head was lowered. The coach looked at him in surprise for a long moment. Tooru supposed he was taken aback at seeing the two of them closer than they were just a few days ago. “Don’t take the fall for him. You’re better than that.”

After the coach left the locker room, they were quiet for a beat. Then Ushijima said, “That was not bad, as you had led me to believe it would be.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t bear that concern, makes me feel guilty. It’s uncomfortable.”

Ushijima chuckled. “A good coach cares for their team as more than players.”

“I know,” Tooru said, shuddering. “Still gives me the shivers.”

The San Juan players had been more jovial about the accident. They laughed themselves into a fit over the mundanity of it. Gabriel was more sympathetic as he ought to have been, but he still laughed when Tooru begrudgingly admitted that, fine, he and Ushijima had gotten along quite well, but it was not thanks to the trip Gabriel had prod him into. Tooru appreciated it when Gabriel told him about the handful his niece was and how he’d rather have gone himself.

Tooru received more condolences from the Adlers, offering kind words when Tooru limped onto the court. Kageyama was awkward as always, but he did ask if it hurt, and Tooru was pleased to say he had responded with only a little sarcasm.

The injury was very minor, truth be told. Tooru avoided putting as much weight on it as possible, and he had to take extra care not to jostle his still-swollen ankle, but he could walk. His coach had called for another examination from the team physician, who was in consensus with the first doctor. Tooru would be up and running again soon, but in the meantime he still attended each practice. He sat on the benches for reserve players and watched. Each observation he catalogued and slipped into information he would use once he was back on. It was easier from the sidelines to see the workings of each player and how he could change his own plays to meld to their habits. He would waste no moment, injury or no.

The San Juan players did not dominate his attention; knowledge of an opponent was just as essential as knowing one’s own team. He watched the Adlers’ feet move as they leapt for the ball, saw how number three had an exceptional serve but lacked height in his jump, saw how another’s spike lost strength as games wore on. And he watched Kageyama, watched Ushijima, observed the fault he knew to be lying in their performance.

On the first day back at practice, Tooru saw Kageyama’s set for Ushijima. It was the same as he remembered it: impressive at first glance, but not so much when he knew what they were capable of. He wondered how long Kageyama had spent on the court trying to change it, trying to capture the euphoria that always exploded within Tooru when each individual set was exact, perfect in its limitations and potential. A setter’s job was to fashion a weapon that suited each teammate, and Kageyama was failing.

On the third day, Tooru pinpointed the issue. He had thought Ushijima’s use of his left hand was part of it, as he was the sole member of the Adlers not to use his right hand. He was correct, and Tooru realized that when he saw the set again for the nth time. It was impossible to set with one hundred percent accuracy, but Kageyama came close, even with Ushijima; the ball was sent to account for the different hand, falling to the side. Ushijima’s selling point was clearly his strength, and his set needed to draw that out further. His swing was quick, a fraction of a second. The ball would drop into his range, and he would jump, and _there_. His hand, and the position of the ball as he made contact—they were off-center by a hair and disallowed the use of his full power. Ushijima’s spike was consistent in both speed and technique. It was Kageyama’s timing that was off, and Tooru hypothesized he was concentrating more on setting for a leftie than on slowing down the set to use Ushijima’s strength to its fullest.

On the sixth day, Tooru knew how to adjust the set, knew how to do it himself. Ushijima was reliable. His jump was always the same, as was the millisecond at which his arm propelled the ball forward. Tooru could get the timing down perfectly. He could set fire to Ushijima’s star and watch it explode, see it dazzle with a new radiance.

Not that he could, right now. Beyond that, did he want to? The animosity he had for Ushijima that had been built more than a decade ago and festered with each loss, it had broken down over the course of a week into tiny fragments that were a shadow of the whole they once were. With that burning resentment now partly worn down, Tooru found he could not easily name what had begun taking its place.

And that was because it was hard for Tooru to move on, despite his efforts. But it was also because Ushijima was being _nice_ , like Tooru truly was his friend. The trip must have torn down a barrier between them, one that Ushijima had no trouble crossing, but Tooru was hesitant to do the same. After all the vitriol Tooru had displayed for him, Ushijima didn’t even seem phased. Ushijima spoke with him during breaks between playing, sat beside the space where Tooru’s leg was propped up and asked him how that spike was, or what he thought of their last serve. He sometimes brought breakfast for Tooru, walked with him as he made his way to the entrance of the stadium at the end of the day.

If it were anyone else, Tooru would have thought he might’ve been _interested_ , except Ushijima hadn’t mentioned the last part of their conversation before Tooru’s injury. Not a word was said about it on the way back into the city or during the week after. Tooru was now certain he had misheard, or he had misjudged. He was not going to dwell on the fact that he even considered the possibility of Ushijima having affection for him.

Except he did. It was in the back of his mind and Tooru could feel it lurking there whenever they were in practice, when they were talking, when Tooru saw him on the court. For all Ushijima spoke about Tooru drawing his attention during play, Ushijima himself was magnetic in his sheer strength and stature, even on a team with some of the best.

It was not only on the court that Tooru found his eye looking for Ushijima, but also on the bus, in cafés, on the street. When he caught himself doing this, he would shake his head and laugh at himself. Just because Ushijima seemed to stick to him during practice didn’t mean he was everywhere. Tooru thought he was being ridiculous, until he caught an actual sighting in the wild.

Sometime during the middle of the week, Tooru ran out of food. His fridge was woefully empty and his pantry had nothing but bread. He had just gotten home from practice and was prepared for a quick bite, but he didn’t even really have that. He checked his cupboards and opened his drawers in a vain attempt to conjure up something more substantial. Finally, he toed his sneakers on and left for the grocery store a couple blocks away. The streets were busy with people returning home after work, running errands and picking up their children from school. Clouds gathered overhead; he didn’t bring an umbrella, so he’d need to hurry. Tooru went into a side street and shortly reached the local market, a cramped little place that had the best deals in the neighborhood. It was nondescript with a green and white awning, and it got cramped on weekend mornings when all the grandmothers nearby flocked to pick up the best produce. Tooru loved it.

The store was almost empty save for a few customers scattered throughout the aisles. He walked inside, past the old man sleeping at the cashier at the front, when he stopped short before a crate of apples.

Someone was standing in front of the fresh produce, holding a tomato and inspecting its skin. The person was taller than Tooru was, with dark hair cropped short at the back of his neck and a black t-shirt that left little to the imagination. The person looked eerily like—

“Oikawa?” Ushijima looked up at him with bright eyes.

“Are you stalking me?” Tooru asked accusingly. He might as well have been pointing at him. “It’s one thing to see each other every day at the gym, but this, in my precious alone time? Can’t get enough of me?”

“Your visit is a welcome surprise, as I did not know you came here. I would have been by more often had I known you were a regular.”

“Somehow, I think you’re joking. Don’t do that, Ushiwaka. I only appreciate flattery when it’s honest.”

A smile tugged at Ushijima’s lips. “I would not dare tease you when it comes to such an important matter.”

“That’s right. You’re smarter than that, aren’t you?” Tooru said. “Your hotel isn’t around here. Why’re you here when there are a lot of places closer to you? And you didn’t know I came here, so the most obvious reason is out.”

“It is often too crowded around the waterfront. I like to go farther away for a more comfortable experience, and it is a nice way to see the city.”

“But there are so many restaurants there. You can’t be hurting for places to eat.”

Ushijima looked to the tomato in his hand. Tooru did too.

“Wait, you’re _cooking_?” Tooru shouted. A patron glared at them from near the oranges, and Tooru said a quick _sorry._ The owner was still asleep, snoring away at the till. “You’re staying in a hotel; don’t you have room service?”

“I know what is in my food when I am the one that makes it. Do you not cook?”

“It takes too much time. And,” Tooru added, grimacing, “It’s one of the rare things I’m awful at.”

“The simplest recipes can take a minimal amount of time, and its results can last you for several days. The time you spend is an investment.”

Tooru made no effort to hide his disinterest. “Please, spare me the preaching. I’ll just get my delicious snacks and be on my merry way.”

“I can show you how easy it can be,” Ushijima said, and Tooru picked up a hint of a challenge in that voice, though Ushijima’s expression remained impartial. Tooru narrowed his eyes.

“What, like you’ll lend me some books? Show me some blogs? _Your_ blog? As appealing as that is, I’m good.”

“No, I was thinking of something more hands-on, if you would allow me to visit.”

Ushijima’s meaning dawned on Tooru, and Tooru did a double take. This wasn’t a come-on, was it? Ushijima was only trying to one-up him. That unspoken challenge tugged at Tooru’s base instincts even though he knew he had zero skill in the kitchen. At least he’d get a meal out of it.

“I’ll make you taste everything first,” Tooru said. “So you better not poison anything. And don’t expect me to do much.”

“I would not able to acquire any on such short notice.”

Tooru surprised himself by laughing. “Unless you’re only using bread, we’ll need to pick up some things.”

They were still clear of rain when they left the market carrying multiple bags on each arm. The old man that rang them up peppered Tooru with questions about this new friend of his, and Tooru fielded them all with his usual lightheartedness. The man also warned them to be careful with the hefty bags. Tooru had waved away the concern, but he had to admit that they were pretty heavy as they made their way back to Tooru’s place.

“You have settled in well,” Ushijima observed.

Tooru moved one bag to the other hand, adjusting the balance. Having a bad ankle made it awkward, and he made sure not to put too much weight on it. “You mean Carlos? He makes small talk with all his regulars.”

“Not only that. You are comfortable here, and your attachment to this place is tangible. You make it look easy.”

“Thinking of moving?” Tooru asked. “I didn’t think you had the interest.”

“I am not, but I had thought you were brave when I heard of your departure. It takes courage to start anew, especially in an unfamiliar environment. I would not be able to do the same.”

Something settled over Tooru’s chest, warm and soothing. Its presence made him squirm in discomfort. Ushijima’s words made him _happy_ , and he craved more of that feeling.

He didn’t dwell on _why_ , didn’t want to.

“Is it bravery or cowardice?” Tooru said to distract himself from his thoughts. “Chasing a dream or running away?”

Ushijima turned to him sharply. “You had nothing to run from. I do not see how you could have acted on fear.”

“Oh, wasn’t there? I didn’t leave because I was scared, but I could’ve. How often had I seen your face on the other side of the court, how often had I worked myself to exhaustion because I wasn’t good enough? I’m sure some thought I was spineless for abandoning that part of my life.”

“It is their imperative to see your actions in a way that benefits their own narrative. If you left to pursue your ambition, that is that,” Ushijima said with such surety that Tooru stilled for a moment. Had Ushijima carried this faith in him when they were kids?

“Are you carrying too much?” Ushijima mistook Tooru’s trouble for a more physical one.

“I’m fine,” Tooru said, walking again.

“I can take some of your bags. It is no good to burden yourself when you are injured.”

“I can practically walk normally again. Who knew you were so fussy, Ushiwaka. It’s almost like you care.”

“I do,” Ushijima asserted. “Let me help you.” He stopped in the middle of the alley, and Tooru had no choice but to relinquish a few of his bags with an eye roll.

“What a gentleman. I might fall for you if you keep this up.” Tooru’s inflection was dry, but it would have been better to not be flirtatious at all. He told himself he wasn’t being serious.

At least Ushijima took it as one of Tooru’s usual quips. He effortlessly added most of Tooru’s load to his own, and they were off again. By the time they were almost back, a drizzle had started to fall, mingling with the humid air and making their shirts stick to their backs.

“It’s probably too messy for you,” Tooru said as they climbed the stairs to the second floor and tracked wet footprints on the tile. “If I’d known I was going to have company, I would’ve tidied up.”

“This was my suggestion; I do not want this to be an imposition.”

Tooru held the door open for Ushijima, as he was the one with a free hand. He removed his shoes on the welcome mat, took some of the bags from Ushijima, and went past the den and into the kitchen.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Ushijima said. He lined his shoes up neatly once he slipped them off. Tooru smiled; he had not heard that phrase in a long while, and it reminded him of home.

“Over here,” Tooru called. The kitchen was longer than it was wide, with the countertops and appliances lining one side. At the end was a large window with a little circular dining table and two chairs. He put the bags on the table, closed the shutters, and switched on the lights. Ushijima came in a moment later and placed his groceries on the counter.

Tooru went to the linen closet next to the bathroom door and pulled out a small towel. He contemplated being an asshat, and he might have been rude just a couple weeks ago, but he thought better of it. They had the foundation of… _some_ kind of relationship right now, and Tooru would rather not screw it up. He handed the towel to Ushijima, who nodded in thanks and wiped at his arms with it.

“Do you want a shirt? My clothes are definitely too small for you and probably clash horribly with your drab sense of style, but I think I have something with a looser fit.’

“If you do not mind.” Ushijima was already taking things out of bags and sorting the haul, putting some of it aside and some in the fridge. He must’ve done this hundreds of times, and the thought of teenaged Ushijima being a cooking prodigy made Tooru snigger as he dug around his closet for something suitable. He managed to find an oversized sweatshirt with a picture on its back of a cartoon UFO abducting a cow. It was utterly perfect.

Ushijima had evidently found what little equipment Tooru had stowed away, because a pan was on boil and Ushijima was slicing the carrots on a cutting board when Tooru walked in. “It’s old, but it’s all I have,” Tooru said, offering him the shirt.

“Thank you.” Ushijima washed and dried his hands before taking it, and in one swift motion he lifted his t-shirt over his head.

Tooru wasn’t ready. He changed almost everyday in the locker room around his teammates, and he certainly wasn’t shy about bodies, whether it was his own or others’, but they were in his home in his entirely too small kitchen, and this was _Ushijima_ , who Tooru knew to be physically stronger than most others, but _god_ if Tooru noticed his body in a shirt, there was absolutely no denying his gaze lingered over his bare chest, over the arms that could push Tooru against the wall, hold him up there as Tooru’s legs wrapped around his waist—

“It fits well. I will give it back to you as soon as mine dries.”

“Mhm, don’t stretch it out. Thanks for the show though, it was almost indecent.” Shit, Tooru could never learn to shut up. He sounded flippant, but he was sure his face was hot to the touch. He wanted to ask what Ushijima meant back at the Falls, ask _do you want me in that way?_ But he could not.

Ushijima turned back to the preparations. “This will not take long. It should be ready in thirty minutes.” Tooru noticed the tips of his ears were red, though he had ignored the comment. Interesting.

“What are you even making? I’ll let you know I have a deathly allergy to mushrooms, if you’re thinking of putting some in. Chokes me up and everything,” Tooru said as he went to the bathroom to hang Ushijima’s shirt over the tub.

The chopping paused. “Do you? We did not purchase any.”

“Good. And nah, just hate them. Definitely makes me want to choke, though.”

Tooru changed out of his own shirt and, wanting some background noise, turned on the television in the den to a sitcom. He thought about piddling around until Ushijima was done, but that was too much of a prick move, even for him.

“It is a noodle soup,” Ushijima said when Tooru leaned against the fridge. Tooru had forgotten he’d asked a question. “It was Hana’s favourite. My mother used to make it when she had little time. My version does not live up to hers, I am afraid.”

“Hana? Ah, your sister,” Tooru realized. “You must dote on her a lot. Not many high school students make their own meals.”

“I would not have either, but our mother already had her hands full with her job. Add two children to that, and she barely had time to keep herself fed.”

Tooru watched him slice celery stalks into small pieces, watched the concentration in Ushijima’s eyes as he brought the knife down again and again. His hands were surprisingly dexterous, handling the knife with a practiced ease. “And you? Did you have time?”

“I had enough.”

The sound of canned laughter filtered in from the living room. Ushijima’s shoulders were stiff and his voice restrained. There was no enmity in that voice, but it was detached, distant. Tooru wanted to close that distance and bring it back. He put his hands on Ushijima’s shoulders and without waiting for a reaction, started kneading.

Ushijima was as surprised as Tooru had ever seen him. He sent the knife forcefully through a stalk, banging the tool against the cutting board. His head turned sideways to look at Tooru from the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing?” He asked, amused.

“Introducing the foreign concept of relaxation to you. Now, as you were.”

”Is this considered a calming activity?”

Tooru put a bit more force into his hands, and he was satisfied at the wince that elicited. “So you were a volleyball prodigy and a responsible brother and son. Not a second wasted, huh?”

“I was not the only one that spent his youth tirelessly,” Ushijima said. He slid the vegetables into the pan, which had the bouillon already mixed in. A comforting aroma was starting to waft from the pan and fill Tooru’s apartment. Ushijima took a pack of cooked chicken and cut it open.

“No, but I knew when to take a break.”

“You are suggesting I do not know how to rest?”

Tooru felt Ushijima loosen under his hands, and he stepped away before it could get awkward. “All I’m saying is maybe you never learned how.”

Ushijima rolled his shoulders back. “That is a big assumption for you to make.”

“Call it an educated guess,” Tooru said. “Now, I’d love to let you do all the work, but I’m getting bored. What can I do?”

“Put those groceries away, please.” Ushijima nodded to the rest of the bags scattered around the kitchen.

“You’re not using any of that? We got a ton of things.”

“I had a feeling your shelves were bare. I wanted to make sure you had a decent stock.”

Tooru, much to his embarrassment, felt a blush come over his face. Ushijima was sill turned away, leaving Tooru mercifully unseen. “If you’re trying to break me out of my unhealthy ways, it won’t work. Mightier people than you have tried.”

“I am not attempting anything of the sort,” Ushijima said, with a glint of humour in his tone. “But one can only survive on cereal for so long.”

“Tell that to my nephew,” Tooru grumbled, but he followed Ushijima’s direction regardless. As he stuffed the fridge and filled the cupboards, Ushijima’s concern settled warm inside him like the heat from a sunbeam, and Tooru was disconcerted to find he wanted to bask in it.

“You were correct.”

“Oh?” Tooru looked up from where he was putting some apples into the crisper drawer of the refrigerator. “So you are trying to kill my habit?”

“That is not what I meant, although it would bring me relief if I succeeded. No, when you said I did not know how to make time for myself. It was not false,” Ushijima said. He was stirring the pan, the constant motion providing something to focus on, or so Tooru extrapolated.

“Is it still true?”

Ushijima kept moving his hand, over and over in circles. “I do not think so, but it is difficult to shake the inclination to keep myself occupied. I am too used to the routine I had in school and the need to keep engaged.”

Tooru closed the fridge door and deposited the plastic bag he was holding on the counter. He went to stand beside Ushijima, looked at him in profile, at the tightness of his jaw and the automatic movement of the wooden spoon in his hand.

“Give it,” Tooru said.

Ushijima turned to him, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

“Let me take over. I’m not going to burn it.” Tooru held out a hand and wriggled his fingers. “Go watch some TV.”

“You do not need to—“

“Ushiwaka,” Tooru interrupted firmly. “We are both control freaks, though I like to think my brand of freakishness is more amenable. Anyway, that means I know better than anyone when to just. Let go. So sit down, put your feet up, listen to music, whatever.”

Ushijima’s hand stilled. He observed Tooru, and Tooru felt eerily like they were on the court on opposite sides of the net, like his every action was being read. “And how often do you follow that advice?” Ushijima said, voice low.

Tooru opened his mouth, closed it. He put a hand on his hip at the same time that his pulse sped up. “You’re here with me, aren’t you? I’d say I’ve eased up a fair bit. More than you probably expected.”

“That much is true,” Ushijima said. He moved closer than they already were, and Tooru kept their eyes locked as Ushijima turned his body to him, put a hand on the counter dangerously close to Tooru’s own. Tooru was rooted to the spot, that magnetism Ushijima possessed in a game drawing Tooru in now, but he would not move even if he could. The challenge in the tilt of Ushijima’s lips, in the heat of his hand that lifted so that it almost touched Tooru’s face, his hand that would fit so well over the small of Tooru’s back, would dip below the curve and pull him in closer. At no other time was Ushijima’s height advantage more apparent; Tooru still did not back down as he listened to his own pounding heartbeat and tilted his head up to keep Ushijima’s gaze.

“Yet you are still holding on to something, if I am not mistaken. I cannot, and I will not, force you to let go, as you have said. That is not my choice to make.” Ushijima’s knuckle grazed Tooru’s cheek, and Tooru’s eyes closed partway, his breathing stuttered. Tooru thought of pulling him down by the sweater, closing the minuscule distance until he had Ushijima’s warmth all around him. Ushijima smelled of the herbs they’d bought and the must of the rain they’d been caught in, and Tooru thought the scent would be nice on his own skin.

Tooru wanted it, he knew he did. But _acting_ on it was a completely different matter, and Tooru froze. His eyes shot open. He saw the boy that represented so many of his failures and the man that thought Tooru was capable of moving past it. He took a breath, and said—

“It’s not.” He reached past Ushijima for the spoon sitting in the pot, careful not to touch him, though every inch of him wanted to, was desperate for it. He threw Ushijima a wink. “The bowls are above the sink, okay? Try not to break anything.”

Ushijima’s cooking was, as Tooru gathered it must be, respectable. Tooru didn’t have the most refined palate and favoured food of the more tooth-rotting variety, but the soup was satisfying. They ate on the couch in the den while they watched an awful reality competition show that Tooru kept up with religiously. It was easy to follow, and Ushijima didn’t have many questions. As an episode faded to black, Ushijima commented on the manufactured nature of it, and Tooru had a difficult time explaining that it was all part of the appeal with large gestures that almost knocked his bowl off the table. A couple more episodes went by until Ushijima’s phone lit up from its place on the sofa’s armrest. Tooru took that moment to check his own phone, and he was surprised to see it was already late in the evening.

“Hana says she wants your autograph,” Ushijima said with a frown.

“You told her we’re together?” Tooru realized how the words sounded once they were out, but he wasn’t going to correct them out of fear of making it even weirder.

“She knows what the Adlers have been doing. I did not know she was a fan of yours.”

Tooru didn’t hide his smirk or the way his eyebrows raised suggestively. “Do I sense _jealousy_? From the great Ushiwaka? Over _me_? I am unbelievably flattered.”

“I believe I have told you she has no interest in volleyball, hence my surprise,” Ushijima remarked. He put down his phone, and Tooru could see the signs of playfulness he was beginning to get used to: the slant of his lips, the arch of the brow.

“You don’t need to play coy.” Tooru singsonged. “It’s only natural that I attract the attention of the most uninterested of spectators. Come on, I can do one better than just my name.” He gestured for Ushijima’s phone.

“You do not mean—“

“That is exactly what I mean. Make room,” Tooru said. He scooted closer to Ushijima but left a few inches between them. Ushijima conceded his phone after accessing its camera.

“This thing still works?” The model was old, and Tooru had a feeling it would survive a fall from his balcony.

“I do not see the point in replacing it when it does its job.”

Tooru held the phone out. He leaned his head in to get fully in the shot, and he tried to ignore the way their legs were almost touching as he took the shot. “Say hi to your sister.”

“She will be shocked when she sees this picture,” Ushijima chuckled. The sound was so warm and the reverberation of it made Tooru want to press closer. Instead, he stood.

“Now you can tell her you’re friends with someone as great as I.”

Ushijima’s eyes rounded for a second, and Tooru thought, for a crucial moment, that he had made a mistake. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners, and Tooru smiled in return.

“Yes. She will be happy, as I am.”

After Tooru added a cutesy filter to the photo and Ushijima sent it off, Ushijima gathered his things and prepared to head out. The rain had stopped while they were eating, and Ushijima changed in the washroom as Tooru cleaned up. He stopped the faucet when Ushijima finished and went to see him off at the door.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Ushijima said. He was back in his form-fitting t-shirt, and Tooru hated how distracting it was.

“I kind of had to after you offered to cook for me, but it was nice regardless. Hey, maybe I’ll whip something up next time.”

“You would?”

“I make no promises about its edibility.”

Ushijima laughed. “I look forward to it. I will see you tomorrow, then.”

After Tooru locked up, finished cleaning and getting ready to sleep, he paused in front of the UFO sweater he had draped over the back of his desk chair. It still clung onto that heady scent, and Tooru decided against tossing it into the hamper.

Tooru was woken the following Sunday by a notification from his phone. He checked the time. It was nine in the morning, which was later than usual. He could not go for a run, and the exercises for his ankle were fairly quick. Below the time was a message from Iwaizumi. It wasn’t rare for days to pass between responses; both their schedules were hectic. Still, Tooru had forgotten what he had sent Iwaizumi until the reply came this morning.

_Is someone holding you ransom behind the camera?_

Tooru sat up. _Now do you see?? This is what I’ve had to deal with_ , he sent. _Are u free now?_ read the second one. It would be nine at night in Japan. That wasn’t too late.

 _For you? Never_ , came the response a second later. Tooru grinned and grabbed the laptop from his desk. He settled back into bed and accepted the call.

Iwaizumi was still in a suit, with one hand slipping off his jacket as he crossed the room to his closet. His tie was on the back of the desk chair, already removed.

“No modesty at all,” Tooru chided. “What if I get the wrong idea?”

“Screw you,” came Iwaizumi’s distant voice, and Tooru launched into a spirited retelling of his many problems.

He had always been thankful for his best friend, but the gratitude increased tenfold when they graduated high school. Tooru did not regret leaving in the slightest, and he wouldn’t be anywhere else. Yet when summer came and he missed the cheer of those bright festivals in Sendai, when he was brought back to those days at Johsai by the young hopefuls that came to watch him play, the nostalgia could be overwhelming. Iwaizumi was always there to connect him in a way that his family could not.

He appreciated Iwaizumi. Most of the time.

“You know, every time I think you cannot get more hardheaded, you prove me wrong.”

“Always so cruel,” Tooru whined. “Be sensitive to my issues.”

“So you’ve been playing with some people you used to hate. So what? I met the guy two years after we left Sendai and it wasn’t that bad. Sure, he was the same as always, but it’s different when we’re not having to lose to him all the time. And you looked like you were enjoying yourself in that photo.” Iwaizumi was eating dinner, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth as he spoke. He was on a time crunch, Tooru knew, but Iwaizumi made time for him anyway.

“That’s the _point_. Do you have any idea how much I hate to see that we haven’t killed each other yet? That we’re actually _friendly_? It truly hurts me.”

“Killed each other? I don’t think he ever disliked you. Seen you as competition, obviously, but that doesn’t equal malice.”

Tooru flopped onto his pillows. “Yeah. He told me as much.”

“Problem solved then, dumbass.”

“It’s not that simple,” Tooru protested. “I think he might—“

He stopped. This was going to sound absurd. It defied all logic in the universe and should have been less probable than the dinosaurs coming back to life. It should have meant the stars coming down to earth and hell freezing over. It was just impossible.

“Did you break? Don’t die while I’m on the call.”

“You’re going to think this is a joke. You can’t laugh at me for this, okay?” Tooru worried at the inside of his lip as he waited for Iwaizumi to finish chewing.

“You know I will,” Iwaizumi said. “So?”

“I think he might like me.” At Iwaizumi’s stare, Tooru blabbed on. “As not just friends, or rivals, or archenemies. As in he’s trying to get closer with me because he wants to be with me. Doesn’t seem real, right? But I swear he said he had some ulterior motive for befriending me. What else could he mean? And we—he touched me. Not in an obscene way, but it wasn’t just friendly either.”

Iwaizumi started choking on some beef. Tooru almost felt bad when he had to reach for a glass of water off-camera until Tooru saw actual tears in his eyes.

“Not everyone who’s nice to you wants to get in your pants. Actually, I think most of them don’t want that,” Iwaizumi said after downing almost his whole glass. “Especially once they get to know your personality.”

“Except he’s gotten to know me better than ever, and he’s gotten friendlier? Like he actually doesn’t mind what I’m like even though I said I’d always disliked him?”

“You sound like you want him to be into you.”

“I’m just considering all the possibilities, that’s it,” Tooru said in a panicky voice.

Iwaizumi finished the last of his meal and moved the bowl aside. He put his forearms on the table and gave Tooru his complete attention. “Does that make you uncomfortable? That he may see you that way?”

“Well—no, but,” Tooru said, “I don’t think I can ever forget what he said back then and what he was like, even though I thought I could. You know what a dick he was. I don’t _hate_ him like I used to, but—it’s still there. Just a little bit.” The words he’d held back came tumbling out of him from the proximity with his best friend. Iwaizumi would find out sooner or later, and the Adlers wouldn’t be here for much longer.

“It’s been almost a decade. You hadn’t seen him in person for that whole time. That part of the past will always be with us, but it’s each of our choices to let it hold us back from being better people. Don’t let it control you.” Iwaizumi was the most serious Tooru had seen him in a while. “If you do, I’ll go over there personally and tell your coach to kick you off the team after I break your other ankle.”

“I didn’t _break_ it,” Tooru said absentmindedly. He let the advice sink in, tracing a line on his comforter. “Thanks. I should let you sleep. We know how cranky you can be without it.”

“You are a paragon of generosity,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “Make sure to kick the Adlers into next week.”

Tooru was about to end the call when the _X-Files_ theme came from his phone. He checked the caller ID and immediately dropped it back onto the bed.

“Who is it?” Iwaizumi had slid his chair back and picked up his bowl but paused on his way to the kitchen.

“The burden you so rudely saddled on me. How could you betray me? Is Tobio more important to you than our years of friendship?”

“Kageyama’s calling you?” Genuine surprise coloured Iwaizumi’s voice.

“You’re the one that gave him my number,” Tooru said with an obvious _duh._ “I’m not a charity, even if he is pitiable.”

“Huh. Maybe you’re doing better than I thought you were.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Iwaizumi stood up so that Tooru could only see his stomach. “Nothing. I’ve got another early day tomorrow, so until next time.”

The call cut off. Tooru’s phone stopped ringing for a moment and started back up again. He rubbed his temple. Kageyama wasn’t giving up. Tooru put his phone to his ear.

“If I didn’t pick up the first time, Tobio, it’s not because I was busy. Don’t you have other people to bother on a nice Sunday morning?”

Tooru heard the background noise of pleasant chatter from Tobio’s end. “I wanted to ask you for your help again. We’re not here for much longer, so—“

“What part of my refusal has given you the teeniest idea that I’ll agree this time around? Do you enjoy the ire I have for you? It must be your kin—“

“But why? You said it’s because we’re competition, but we’ve been teammates this month. So why?”

Tooru opened his mouth to go on another diatribe, but Iwaizumi’s voice rang in his head. _Don’t let it control you_. “Who knows if I can?” he said, sidestepping the question. “Bye.”

“Wait! I’m right outside.”

“You can’t be serious.” Tooru set his laptop aside, went to the window, and threw open the shutters. Kageyama was in the centre of the street and looking up at him. He didn’t wave when Tooru emerged from the window, just continued staring at him like a fish out of water.

“Who gave you my address?” Tooru growled into his phone. He retreated back into his apartment and began changing out of his sleepwear. “I need to know who to shun for the rest of my life.”

“Gabriel. He said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Did you really think that, Tobio? Did you really?” Tooru said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No, but he knows you better than I do.”

Tooru hung up the phone and pocketed it before slowly heading downstairs. He wasn’t going to let Kageyama inside his apartment. Kageyama bowed slightly when Tooru arrived.

“So you’re here. At my house. Because you want me to come to the rescue with my superior intellect, despite your fruitless attempt at persuasion earlier. And you thought waiting below my window like some knock-off of _Romeo and Juliet_ would get me to agree. Did I get that right?”

Kageyama’s baseball cap shaded his eyes, but Tooru could still see his brow pinch. “Who are they?”

“I’m never sure if you actually graduated high school,” Tooru sighed. “What if I just left you here? Would you go away like a good kid?”

“Not before you tell me why. I know you don’t want to, but _why_?”

Why? Kageyama knew, and Tooru hated that he did. It was a weakness, that fear of a talent that so overshadowed his own, that talent that had more than once made him think his efforts were useless. That talent, that _genius_ , which brought that beast of jealousy and bitterness out of hiding.

Tooru inhaled. “I don’t put out without a date first.”

Kageyama would give up now and leave him alone. Tooru waited for it with a hand on his hip, watched the flush colour his face.

“Okay,” Kageyama said at last.

Tooru wanted to kick himself.

And that was how they found themselves a good distance away in one of the highlights of the city and one that Tooru had visited many times. Stone lanterns dotted the walkway and a _torii_ gate stood across the pond. It was like they’d taken a flight back home.

“You know, Tobio, you’re actually not that bad at this. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“I don’t need to hear that from you.”

Despite the great choice in location, the partner and conversation left much to be desired. Their feet stepped over the smooth stone paths of Buenos Aires’s Japanese Gardens, and on both sides were flowering bushes in pink and white. Their scent was sweet, and it drifted around them like a cloud.

“How did you find out about this place?” Tooru asked.

Kageyama looked forward, avoiding Tooru’s eyes. “I found it by accident. I was trying to go back to the hotel.”

“And it wasn’t that one time I ran into you and you were the bane of that café?” Tooru snickered. “How about I give you a collar as thanks for this _wonderful_ outing?”

“I’m not a dog.”

“True. Dogs are much nicer. Comforting, too. And brave.”

Kageyama put his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and his shoulders were hunched. He was so clearly sulking that Tooru felt a similar glee he used to get when he would do the same to Kageyama during school. This time, however, it felt perverse and didn’t bring quite the same satisfaction, like Tooru’s consciousness knew better.

They came to the bridge that connected this side of the pond with the other, painted in a beautiful red. Tooru paused as they walked on it and peered at the koi swimming lazily about. It was a lovely day out, and several other visitors were milling around the gardens, taking pictures and having pleasant strolls.

“When I talk to you like that, why don’t you say anything?” Tooru would not have minded or cared when they were kids, but if Tooru knew he was being immature back then, it was a downright ugly look for him now as someone closer to thirty than twenty. Kageyama didn’t even put up a fight, and Tooru now didn’t much like kicking a person that didn’t kick back.

Damn Iwaizumi for planting the seed in Tooru’s head in the first place. Tooru needed to find someone that didn’t know his flaws so well.

“It’s just how you are,” Kageyama said. He put one foot over the edge of the bridge so that the upper half dangled over the lip. “It’s easier to let you do it.”

Tooru felt a vein pulse in his forehead. “Like how you let a child tire itself out?”

Ignorant to Tooru’s impending wrath that was being loosely held back, Kageyama answered, “Yes, but I don’t think I could do the same if it were someone else.”

“I am disgusted to hear I have a special place in your life, Tobio.”

Kageyama fixed him with a disbelieving glare before looking back to the serene pond in front of them. He bit at his lip in hesitation, and Tooru waited.

“I’ve always admired you, even before I asked you for your help back then—in Sendai, not here. I know you didn’t like that, maybe saw it as an insult. I never thought it was one.”

“Yeah,” Tooru said. It came out in a sharp exhale. “To have someone so _gifted_ waltz in and eclipse my own ability that I had had to bleed for? You had no idea what it was like, to compete with a natural that was given all they could ever need. All those hours I spent, all the sweat I poured, sometimes I wondered what was the point of it all. How could I not take your plea for help, that admiration, as a slight?”

“Really?” Kageyama stared at him in shock, like he didn’t think Tooru would be honest with him. “But Johsai was one of our greatest opponents. You were the best setter in the prefecture, and I thought in the whole of Japan. I wanted to do what you could do and bring my team together as a setter should. But that was impossible for me. It still is.”

“You were the only one I have ever admired like this. I saw you as the model of a setter and team captain. I think my respect for you means you can be as childish and rude as you want to me,” Kageyama concluded. “I’m used to it, anyway.”

Tooru felt something shift in him, something lifting and leaving him like a bird taking flight. He breathed, and the air cleansed him from the inside out.

“What an awful reason. Stand up for yourself; your rabid idolization of yours truly doesn’t mean you give me free reign.”

“That’s not what I—“

“My ankle’s starting to hurt.” Tooru wriggled his foot around. There was no pain, only a bit of swelling. “I need to rest,” he said, and he put a theatrical hand to his forehead.

Tooru had not woken up earlier with the intention of spending the whole day with the brat, yet here he was, out on the town with him. It truly was like a date, except he would rather have tripped all the way down the stairs at the Falls than see Kageyama in a romantic light.

They patronized a local eatery when they left the gardens. Tooru was hungry, and he decided squeezing all he could out of Kageyama was a fair trade for agreeing to help. After that was a boutique Tooru had always wanted to go in, then a sporting goods store. Across the street was a place selling handmade leather goods, and a few blocks down was a confectioner with candies glistening like rare gemstones in the window. The bags were split between them, and the sun was setting when Tooru took all of them and told Kageyama to wait on the street as he dropped everything off at his apartment.

“Now for the main event,” Tooru said when he went back down. “Do you have a change of clothes in your locker?”

“Yeah.” Kageyama eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with them?”

“I’m gonna sell them online. Some crazy fan has to be into that.”

Tooru led the way to the gymnasium as Kageyama spluttered at the thought of a creep buying his sweaty jersey. It was not yet dark enough for the pier to be lit up, but the water reflected the reds and oranges of the sunset on its rippling surface. When they got to the gym, the door was locked and the lights off.

“We can’t break in,” Kageyama said, like the idea was ludicrous.

“Tobio, Tobio. Live a little.” Tooru pulled a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. It clicked open and admitted them entry.

“Why do you have that?”

“They were tired of having to fix the window every time I broke in.”

“No way,” Kageyama said, a little scandalized.

“Relax. Everyone on the team has one. I wouldn’t have such a boring crime stain my record.”

The gym was eerie when not in service, with their footsteps louder than usual in the silence. The sun still sinking beneath the horizon flooded the building and eliminated the need to switch on the lights in the lobby. They went to the same court they always used. Tooru fetched the balls after demanding Kageyama change.

Kageyama was stretching when Tooru wheeled in a couple carts. The court felt bigger when it was empty, stretching before them and culminating in rows and rows of unoccupied seats peering down at them. Sometimes during practice, from the brightness of the court, Tooru liked to envision the pitch-dark seats as they were during official matches, with fans young and old coming to watch what the teams had worked their whole lives for.

“You’re not changed?” Kageyama asked as he worked out the stiffness in his arms.

“Did you forget I’m out for two weeks? I know you miss my spectacular presence, but I still have some time left to go.”

“Then what are we doing?”

Tooru’s patience was already a thin line when it came to Kageyama, and that line was being stretched taut. He dragged the cart with him to the bench and sat.

“Show me the set you’ve been working on,” Tooru said. He passed a ball to Kageyama, who reflexively got into position and sent the ball flying at an awkward angle.

“Again.”

And again. Tooru threw ball after ball, and Kageyama set each one. They settled into a rhythm until all the balls were scattered around the court.

“How many left-handers have you worked with?” Tooru said.

Kageyama was panting lightly. “A few, but long-term? Only with—“

“Ushiwaka. It shows. Tell me, what do you think is different about lefties?”

“Um, they use their left hand?” Kageyama frowned like he thought he had the wrong answer.

“Anything else?”

Kageyama narrowed his eyes in concentration and crossed his arms.

“Don’t hurt yourself. There’s no other answer; they aren’t special because of their lefthandedness. Does it make them more difficult to face on the court? Perhaps, but that isn’t where their talent lies,” Tooru lectured. “All you need is to change the angle, nothing less and nothing more. Other adjustments are dependent only on your partner. Use that spotlight as your guide.” He pointed to the light above them and held his hand vertically, creating a line. “He’s here, ready for the kill. Time yourself correctly. Have you measured the timing of his spike? Its height?”

“Yes,” Kageyama affirmed.

“Once more, then.”

Kageyama hit each and every ball, flinging them into the air. Most were on target, but a few went astray.

Tooru kept his eyes on the invisible line he established, counted the milliseconds between Kageyama’s lift and the moment the ball fell to the apex of what would be Ushijima’s jump. If Tooru’s count was right, Kageyama was still off by the time the cart was emptied. They would need Ushijima if they wanted to truly correct the set. When the last ball landed, Tooru started cleaning up.

“We’re not finished yet,” Kageyama said. Sweat beaded his forehead like a crown.

“It’s getting late, and we have practice tomorrow. Patience isn’t your strong suit, but we can’t do anything without the one actually hitting the ball.”

Kageyama was rooted to the spot, looking at Tooru through wide eyes. “I haven’t gotten it yet. Tell me what I need to do.”

Tooru bit back the more poisonous remarks he had locked and loaded. “If failure is such a rare occurrence that you throw a fit over it, you can give up asking me for help. Now, will you listen to me?”

“… Fine.” Kageyama said, yielding.

They picked up the rest of the balls in silence and locked them away. Tooru had essentially set up Kageyama’s hopes for another session, but Tooru doubted Kageyama could succeed without having to demonstrate. His heart still tripped when he thought of setting for Ushijima, but there was less anger there now, less vindictiveness. There was an excitement, a spark of anticipation that sent shivers down his spine, but following through on it would mean admitting to something he couldn’t help but shy away from.

When they shut the door to the gym behind them, Kageyama did an awkward shuffle like a teenager on the doorstep of his crush’s house. “Don’t like me enough to walk me home?” Tooru teased. “Just kidding. My apartment doesn’t want to see you a third time.”

Kageyama’s mouth twisted into a funny mix between a frown and a scowl. He bowed deeply. “Thanks for your help. I’m in your debt.”

“I love to hear it, but let’s save all the praise for when you’re finally cured, hm?”

“That wasn’t praise,” Kageyama said as he straightened.

“So you’re doing as I asked. How obedient, Tobio.”

Night had claimed the city while they were inside, and the buildings all along the waterfront were illuminated, casting a bronze glow in the dim. Small boats were docked in a neat row, and a cruise ship floated along the river. It was a beautiful evening. Tooru wondered if Ushijima was out too enjoying the night, or in that luxury hotel of theirs. He didn’t strike Tooru as the nightlife type.

Tooru shook his head. He was going mad.

“Er, what are you doing?” Kageyama was looking at him warily.

“Thinking about how I managed to spend the whole day with you and still have my sanity intact.”

“I—me too, actually.”

“Let’s not make a habit of it,” Tooru winked.

Iwaizumi would have the smuggest grin when Tooru told him about this. It would be well deserved, and Tooru wouldn’t blame him for it.

The last week of the Adlers’ stay came faster than even Tooru thought it would. He still couldn’t play, and that was a great disappointment, but it gave him an excuse to sit out. Their last practice was during the latter half of the week, after which the Adlers would stay for Saturday and leave the next day, giving them some time to enjoy the Carnival celebrations.

Every day of the last round of practices, Tooru saw Kageyama set to Ushijima. First, it went wide, veering too far to the right. After, it was too quick. Then, it was too slow. Tooru applauded the effort to improve; it was stagnancy that was worth reproof, and it was better to throw a worse set now than be satisfied with what could be better. Ushijima spoke with Kageyama after each time, telling him to change this or that, to alter the height or the speed. Kageyama listened and nodded in agreement, and tried to follow Ushijima’s directions. Tooru almost missed the days of Kageyama’s tyrant attitude. He stayed back on several occasions to help Kageyama, but the results were the same.

A final match was held on Friday, the two teams putting what they’d learned to good use. The game was open to spectators, and on this day more than any other during his injury, Tooru wished he hadn’t been so stupid. The seats were almost at capacity for this exhibition match. The cacophony of the crowd was the best stimulant, but the high wasn’t the same when Tooru was confined to the bench. This time, the San Juan Club pulled ahead and called the game in their favour, but it was close. Tooru cheered at the top of his lungs when his team won the last volley.

“Congratulations to all of you,” his coach began once the stands had cleared out. They gathered around the sidelines where Tooru and several others were seated. The stadium was large, but his voice carried over their heads regardless. “Not only for today, but for this past month. When I was asked if we could host the Adlers, I jumped at the chance. With the Olympics next year, I would’ve been a fool to pass it up.”

“And we were humbled to work with one of the world’s top teams. Our home country is filled with challenging players, but it is a necessity to learn with those that have had completely different experiences. Keep your enemies closer, as they say.” The voice of the Adlers’ coach boomed, and he gave a hearty guffaw.

“There have been many challenges this whole month, but none that could not be surmounted.” Here Tooru’s coach looked directly at him, and Tooru turned around and pointed at himself, as if to say, _me_? The others laughed, and from the corner of his eye Tooru saw Ushijima smile. “The next time we do something like this, we’ll make sure _all_ of our players are fit to participate.”

The captains gave short speeches expressing their thanks. Tooru could remember that feeling of dread, that foreboding when they’d first arrived with a lucid clarity. To have that time pass with swiftness and encapsulated by words of farewell—it was sobering, and Tooru would not have minded a longer stay.

“Enjoy the rest of your time here,” his coach said. “But don’t get too rowdy; we don’t need a repeat performance of your impromptu karaoke night.”

Kageyama reddened. Tooru had saved that video for a rainy day, but not before sending it to Iwaizumi who’d cried laughing over video chat.

“Tonight’s on us. Leave your things in your lockers and meet in the lobby when you’re done. Now go get washed up and changed, will you? You all need a good shower,” the Adlers’ coach bellowed over the laughter.

Tooru skipped the showers, having not actually played. He was the first of his team to leave the lockers and head into the foyer. The coaches were also elsewhere; only Ushijima was present, sitting with his back to the windows and phone in hand. The summer sun filtered in and cast a golden tinge on his hair. He looked up when Tooru took the seat opposite, and the gentle lift of his mouth made Tooru’s stomach flip in way that he never thought he’d associate with Ushijima. It was the same feeling he’d gotten when he’d decided to leave home, when a teammate was about to hit a set of his. It was a pleasant nervousness that put knots in him.

“How is your ankle healing?” Ushijima said. He slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans and faced Tooru fully.

“The doc says it’s coming along perfectly, and I will be good for tomorrow. But I was so bored on the bench I was tempted to jump in.”

“You would not do that.”

“You overestimate my patience, Ushiwaka. Two weeks out of the game is utter torture,” Tooru said with a melodramatic flair. “I could do nothing but rot away, watching you day in and day out.”

“Only I?” Ushijima raised an eyebrow. “What did you think of my performance today?”

Tooru felt his face warm and pushed on. “You hit like a truck, but is that anything new? You should tell me your training regimen, although I doubt I’d be able to get as big.” He held an arm out in front of him as if to compare.

“Skill is not equivalent to size. You are more than fine as you are; your position does not necessitate bulk.”

“Only ‘more than fine?’ You wound me. I prefer criticism to lukewarm praise.” Tooru was angling for compliments now and some part of his mind told him to walk it back, but he couldn’t care.

“I believe you are aware of your appearance in addition to your athletic ability,” Ushijima said, leaning forward in his seat. “But if you would like me to speak on it, I will.”

“It’s no good if you say it like that. Go on, though. I’m listening.” Tooru pouted and sat back.

“You make up for strength with your grace. Your agility allows you to reach the ball easily from anywhere on the court, and extra bulk would only slow you down. As for your appearance, my assessment is much more biased in nature, although I believe anyone would agree you are objectively attractive. Your physique plays a part in that.” Through his whole spiel, Ushijima did not look away from Tooru once, which meant he must have witnessed the blush that spread over Tooru’s face, the embarrassment that Tooru really brought on himself.

Tooru sunk into his seat and held his hands up like a shield in front of his face. Behind them, he was flushed beyond belief. “Alright, that’s enough. I don’t know how you can be so damn embarrassing, Ushiwaka. So shameless.”

When Ushijima next spoke, his voice was closer, and it was accompanied by a ghost of a touch on Tooru’s hand. “Was that too much?”

The touch pulled gently at Tooru’s wrist, and he let it tug his hands down. Tooru had reined in his expression, but he was still warm as Ushijima looked at him with such fondness that it would surely get to Tooru’s head. He had never seen Ushijima look like this, with this heat in his eyes that was less like the rush of a game and more like a _want_ that in turn sparked something in Tooru. There had been something similar that day in his apartment as the rain poured gently outside, but there was no challenge here this time.

“It’s never too much,” Tooru said into the space between them. “You know that.”

Ushijima’s fingers wrapped around Tooru’s wrist; Tooru wasn’t small, but in Ushijima’s grasp like this, he was dwarfed. He tried not to think about Ushijima pressing his wrists into smooth, cool sheets, as Tooru arched up—

Tooru’s heart hammered, and nausea washed over him—his eyes closed like he could shut it all out.

“Oikawa, can I—“

“I—wait—“

Ushijima stilled. They had spoken at once, but Ushijima must have heard him. Tooru opened his eyes in time to see uncertainty flicker across his face before it disappeared. Ushijima nodded and let go, moved back and away.

“Ushiwaka—“ A shot of fear had pulsed through Tooru just then, leaving his hands trembling in his lap and his breathing unsteady. His skin still prickled where Ushijima had touched him, fine points of needles pushing warm at his wrists. It was an exhilarating thing, a sensation he could get drunk off of, but—it was a decade gone, and still an echo of that pure animosity for a boy he barely knew paralyzed him. Tooru despised himself for it.

“You guys are early.”

Tooru whipped around to see some of the players coming towards them. Ushijima was already standing up. He looked down at Tooru with no hint of anger or disappointment.

“I’m sorry—“ Tooru said, but Ushijima shook his head.

“Please do not apologize; there is no need.”

But there was, and now that Tooru was this far, there was no chance he was going to let this go without explaining himself. Not when there were only a few days remaining.

“The coaches said they’d booked out a steakhouse, but I’m in the mood for some pasta.”

“Seriously? Meat is heavenly after a game.”

Tooru listened, but it all went in one ear and out the other. Nonetheless, Tooru managed to act as he usually did as the others reconvened in the lobby, and as they took up nearly the entire space in a nearby restaurant. He sat a few tables away from Ushijima. If anyone noticed something was off, they did not mention it. Kageyama was opposite him at the same table, and while everyone ate their fill, Tooru thought of how to approach Ushijima and clear the air between them.

He would not have considered doing so even just a week before. But that was before he had spoken with Iwaizumi and gotten his ass verbally kicked, and before he had managed to hold himself together enough to hold an actual conversation with Kageyama. If he could agree to help the boy he had once loathed, surely he could bring himself to speak honestly with Ushijima.

“You should’ve told me Oikawa was giving you some alone time. I’d have dropped in.”

Tooru looked up from his glass. Beside him, Hoshiumi was waving his fork around, which was pierced through a cut of beef. He directed it at Kageyama, and the meat looked like it was going to fly off and hit him in his disgruntled face.

“It's called exclusive access,” Tooru said. He put down his drink and with his elbow on the table, put his chin in his hand. “There’s not enough of me to go around. Tragedy, I know.”

Hoshiumi was gesticulating drastically, and Tooru would have suspected him to be several drinks deep if he hadn’t seen his glass being refilled once. “It’s not fair. What makes him so special? Especially since you barely played this whole time,” he cried.

“If you want my attention that badly, you need to earn it.” Tooru put a hand over Hoshiumi’s upper arm and slowly trailed it down.

The grilled pepper Kageyama had been chewing on went down wrong, and he started coughing. Hoshiumi’s mouth opened wide. He brandished his fork again, and this time the beef went sailing over their heads. “You name it, you got it,” he exclaimed. “What’ll it be? I’ve got some shrimp crackers left in my suitcase. They’re all broken, though.”

“Can’t think of anything?” Tooru said sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind tasting something else— _ouch_.”

Kageyama was chugging furiously at his soda. His shoe had banged Tooru’s shin underneath the table, and Tooru laughed.

“Don’t worry Tobio, I only have eyes for you.” He pinched Hoshiumi’s arm before letting go, drawing a surprised yap.

The night went on after that, and his helping Kageyama was not brought up again. He didn’t know if the others had heard. He did not purposely keep it a secret, but he had no reason to be telling everyone about it either. There was still one person Tooru should have told, should have asked to join them, but there were other… issues Tooru would rather bring up. The choice was made for him, though, when he ducked outside for a quick break.

The restaurant was bustling outside, with the outdoor seating all occupied with lively groups of young and old. Across from it was the waterfront, and Tooru walked to the railing, away from the people. He gripped the railing with both hands and took a deep breath of the summer air. Suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit him, and he thought of going home. He hadn’t even played in the match today, nor had he played for the last half of the month, but he was tired, tired of mending the bridges he thought had been burned years ago. He was tired of having to confront his own shortcomings.

He leaned forward, watched the cruise ship sailing smoothly across the water and the lights beaming from its hull. He did not know how much time had passed out here, but he was not surprised when someone came up beside him.

“Have you been on a ship here?”

Ushijima was close enough to touch. He looked out over the water at the point Tooru had been just staring at a moment ago.

“Once. It was a horrendous rip-off, and I got food poisoning.”

“What a shame,” Ushijima said, “it would have made a wonderful experience.”

Tooru leaned forward, crossing his arms over the railing. “Worried about me? I wouldn’t leave without telling everyone first.”

“I was. They will be out soon, but I wanted to check on you. You have not appeared to be quite yourself this evening.”

“You’ve been watching me,” Tooru said quietly. It was not a question.

“I am. I always have been, I think.”

Tooru’s breath caught, his face warmed. “How can you just—say something like that?”

Ushijima bowed his head, but he still did not look at Tooru. “Excuse me. That was much too candid, if it made you uncomfortable—“

“Ushiwaka. I’m the one that needs to apologize,” Tooru said. He straightened and tightened his grip on the rail. “For today. I know you’re more perceptive than you seem, so you must’ve sussed out how I—how I feel. About you.” Tooru cursed inwardly; why couldn’t he be eloquent when it counted?

“I am happy that you think I am, but when it concerns you, I find my thoughts are much more confusing,” Ushijima confessed. He gave Tooru a small smile. It was tinged with a melancholy, and it stirred empathy in Tooru.

“All the better for me to lay out what I want to say. Do you remember what I told you? In that bakery?”

“It would be hard to forget,” Ushijima chuckled. “You said you disliked me.”

“And that’s not true anymore. I don’t think it is.”

Ushijima’s brow rose. “You don’t ‘think’ so? Forgive me for saying you sound dubious.”

“I know,” Tooru griped. “The thing is, that dislike, that hatred, it’s almost been burned away. And _you_ did that, Ushiwaka. You became a person that I like to be with, someone that I want more of. Or maybe you were always like that and I just despised you too much back then to see it. Either way, the truth is: I think I like you.”

Tooru continued, because he didn’t think he’d be able to if he paused. “Correct me if I’m completely off-base here and totally misread you. I don’t tend to be wrong about people, but as you can see, I haven’t always been on the mark about you. Since we went to the Falls, when you said you weren’t being all friendly with me because you wanted me to set to you. You said you had a different reason. What was it?”

He wanted to hear it from Ushijima’s lips, though he now would have bet his volleyball career on Ushijima’s confirmation of his feelings.

“You remember that?” Ushijima asked, with a scarlet tinge to his ears. Tooru’s grip on the rail loosened. “I hoped you had forgotten.”

“Too bad—it kind of stuck out. You thought I’d leave it alone?” Tooru laughed, but there was no mirth. “You have no idea how much that’s been bothering me since you said it, do you? The ideas it gave me? I went from wanting to beat you at everything to wanting to kiss you.”

The red now reached down past the collar of Ushijima’s shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was unsteady. “Truthfully, I am surprised to hear you say that. You are very… affectionate with others, even with those you distrust. It is part of what makes you a difficult person to understand.”

“What can I say? I enjoy getting a rise out of people. Although I can see why that might be confusing.”

“But you were not being facetious with me.” Ushijima sounded unsure of himself, and Tooru shouldn’t have found it so endearing.

“I was, in the beginning. But it stopped being a joke somewhere down the line, when you said you wanted to be closer so you could have sex with me.”

“I did not say that.”

Tooru snickered at the very adamant refusal and the thin, unamused line of Ushijima’s lips. “So you don’t want to? Disappointing, but I’ll make do.”

Ushijima’s fingers twitched as he rubbed his forehead. “Sometimes I do not know whether I love you or hate you. No, that is not what I meant that day. I simply wanted to have you as a friend.” Before Tooru’s stomach sank and he could play off the rejection like a loss of a match, Ushijima continued. “I have always harbored a liking of some kind for you, but when you informed me of my wrongdoings concerning our past conversations, I realized I needed to build a foundation for a friendship, as shaky as it may be. I was under no illusion that you would return my feelings, and I operated under the assumption that we would, at best, become friends.”

Tooru had to duck his head to hide the colour that rose in his face at the pure candour and honesty with which Ushijima confessed his affections. Ushijima had always liked him? Tooru knew he was going to spend countless nights turning over his memories of Ushijima, trying to find a hint of it from the past decade.

“Did your plan account for the best-case scenario?” Tooru said, and this time his own voice was shaky.

“I—“ Ushijima started, and his eyes were so wide and round with astonishment that Tooru drew a bit closer. “I did not think it was a possibility.”

“I’m surprised. Every operation needs a contingency plan.”

Tooru felt Ushijima’s astute gaze on him, sending his heartbeat racing. “You are hesitant,” Ushijima said. “Please, tell me why.”

“Well, let me count the reasons. Besides the fact that we live on opposite sides of the world, and that we’re competitors?” Tooru leaned his head back. From the city, he could not see any of the stars. “I said I didn’t hate you. It’s true—hate is too strong a word. But that hatred left a mark on me. It burned so strongly for years, and the remaining embers still have me caught. You were dead on target. I can’t let go. I don’t know if I can,” he said, the bitterness scratching at his throat. He looked away from the night sky to find Ushijima fixing him with a peculiar look that set Tooru on edge.

“Perhaps you do not need to extinguish it completely.”

“Huh? Do you under—“

A bunch of yelling drowned out the rest of Tooru’s question, and he closed his eyes in frustration. Of all the times—

“Let’s go, you two,” Gabriel shouted. “We’re getting more drinks.”

Hoshiumi ran up to them at full speed and almost bowled Ushijima over with considerable force. “Our coaches left already, so it’s just us. And your captain,” he said, thrusting a finger at Tooru, “says he’s bringing us to a fancy bar, his treat.”

“I’m done for the night,” Tooru said. His earlier exhaustion flooded him, and his bed was too powerful a siren call to resist. “Keep Ushiwaka here away from any wandering hands, got it? He’s saving himself for me.”

“I am sorry, but tell them I won’t be joining you.” Ushijima kept his eyes pinned on Tooru as he spoke to Hoshiumi.

“Yes, you will. When’s the next time you’re going to be here? Go and unwind. I can wait.”

“Oikawa—“

“Go on,” Tooru repeated. He held his palm up in a ‘stop’ gesture and gave a small smile. “I’d like the time to think, anyway.”

Ushijima looked like he was about to resist, but he finally acquiesced with no small amount of reluctance. Hoshiumi looked between them with owl-like eyes, and Tooru hoped he hadn’t caught on to anything.

“What’s going on?”

“Tobio,” Tooru sighed. He was beginning to feel like a roadside attraction. “Do me a favour and take these two off of my hands.”

Kageyama, at least, was hesitant of what he’d walked in on and knew better than to ask questions. “The bill’s sorted,” he told them. “They want to leave now. We should go.”

Hoshiumi bounced away, deciding he was uninterested after all, and Kageyama followed suit with a backward glance over his shoulder at the two of them. Ushijima did not watch them go.

“Will you be coming tomorrow? For the celebrations?” He asked with such hopefulness that Tooru could not refuse even if he wanted to.

Tooru nodded, and he went to the group to offer a last-minute excuse for his absence.

He intended to rest upon returning to his apartment, sleep off some of the restless energy and nerves he’d accumulated. After showering, he put on some new clothes, opened his bedroom window, and turned on the rotating fan. The lights were off, and he stared at the wavering glow of the lamps outside shining on his walls. Occasionally, he listened to snatches of conversation from passersby. The night was still, and the summer air was comforting. He tried to sleep.

He could not. As the breeze from the fan grazed his skin, his thoughts turned round and round, tumbling over themselves and fighting to be heard. He thought of Ushijima, his steadfast presence as an obstacle in Tooru’s school years and the man who had held feelings for him through it all. He thought of the brilliance of Ushijima’s star and the match Tooru held, capable of setting it alight. He felt the chains pulling him back, the memories choking him and dragging him down. He remembered Iwaizumi’s encouragement that gave him the push he needed to start anew with Kageyama, and he wondered why it couldn’t be as easy with Ushijima, why he was so severely sabotaging himself. He laid there, awash in the peace of night, feeling like he was drowning in his own imperfections.

His veins thrummed under his skin. Wallowing here was fruitless and a waste of time. He could message Iwaizumi, but it was up to Tooru to follow through on the advice he’d already been given. The seconds, minutes, hours ticked by as the moon dipped and the sun crawled up over the horizon to replace it. He had flickered in and out of sleep, like he did when he caught a fever. When he roused, birdsong came in through the window and past the curtains fluttering in the morning breeze. He was surprised he’d gotten to sleep at all.

Tooru said he’d wanted to think, but that led to no conclusions and no answers. He could go for a run, sit down for breakfast at a café, or distract himself with a movie. He was sure none of that would help. There was only one thing to do and one place he could go. The arena was closed for the holiday, but that was nothing he couldn’t fix. Jolted into action by a sudden need to _do_ something, he took his gym bag and went out the door. Hardly any were out this early, and Tooru walked the empty streets to the gymnasium.

The place was, as he expected, completely empty when he arrived. It would remain so for the rest of the day, unless someone else was as obsessive as he was. He changed in the locker room. As he laced up his shoes, he felt his ankle and tested his foot’s movement. The swelling had finally disappeared. He got out onto the court and stretched, warming up for an assuredly long session. It was quiet, and a phantom audience stared down at him from the seats. This was what he knew, what he lived for. It cleared his head and freed his mind. He tossed a ball into the air and jumped.

It was not the first time he’d whiled away his stress on a deserted court. When he thought he hadn’t been good enough for his new team, when Tooru couldn’t return for his nephew’s graduation, when he’d caught wind of his peers from Sendai rising in their leagues. This was where he was most comfortable; it was the panacea for all his ills. It was probably a bit unhealthy and more than a little zealous, but he liked to think he knew when to stop.

His nerves calmed and he moved to sound of the ball rather than the thrumming of his veins. Now, he could think.

He wanted… something with Ushijima. Something more than whatever kind of tenuous connection they already had, the kind of bond forged in the tumult of childhood. Something more, something _different_. He wasn’t a romantic and hadn’t considered having a relationship in years, but Tooru knew he now wanted it. He fumbled the ball as he laughed—would he have believed it if he was told as a kid, when he’d liked nothing better than to see Ushijima humbled by loss?

There was a goal. That was good. He threw a ball up and spiked it hard over the net. There were barriers to that goal, and the strongest was of his own making.

He smashed another ball with immense force, like it could break through that barrier. Ushijima had apologized, and that should have been it. Tooru was complicating everything despite his own desires. How could he stop, what could he do to tear down that obstacle?

Time? Brute force? Avoidance? It had already been ten years, and telling Ushijima to _wait_ on the off chance Tooru came to his senses was a ridiculous course to take. Forcing himself through his resentment was a surefire way to hate Ushijima and himself. And as much as it had deteriorated, it was still something Tooru could not ignore.

He caught the ball with both hands as it fell. His fingers squeezed the leather. Up, again.

 _Don’t let it control you_. He was desperately trying not to. When it was like a second skin, an instinct that had been trained into him, what could he do? He’d told Ushijima about it, and Ushijima had not rebuked or disparaged him. He had looked at Tooru with empathy.

_Perhaps you do not need to extinguish it completely._

Why not, when it was holding him back? Ushijima must have seen something Tooru did or could not. Tooru could ask him what he meant, but it annoyed him that he could not understand what Ushiima saw. If Ushijima could see it, surely Tooru could too.

It seemed to be the only option, to eradicate the antagonism that had stuck with Tooru since their first match together. But Ushijima did not think the same way. What good could holding onto that resentment do? Tooru slammed another ball down.

He remembered the preliminaries. Johsai had done all they could in the weeks leading up to it, running drills and staying after school almost every day until they had to be kicked out. He thought they’d been better than they ever were. They weren’t perfect, but they were more than good enough to win the finals. Yet Shiratorizawa proved too difficult a force to take down, and Johsai had lost. Tooru had known no greater disappointment. He’d spent nearly every waking moment after working out the hitches in his team’s performance and working himself to exhaustion. He hit the next ball, and it landed right within bounds.

That was not their first match together. He went further back, uncovering older memories. They were just children when they’d first met at some local recreational camp. Ushijima had been a few centimetres taller even then, and Tooru remembered thinking, so _this_ was Shiratorizawa’s new recruit, their up-and-coming ace. They’d shaken hands, and he’d thought Ushijima was the most aloof person he’d met, which stood out from the rambunctious nature of young boys. It seemed like Ushijima had always been strong, confident, unshakable. He’d blocked each one of Tooru’s spikes, and Tooru’s sets were ineffectual. From then on, Tooru knew Ushijima would be his greatest challenge. After camp, he pushed himself on the court, striving to tear down Ushijima’s immense wellspring of strength. Next time they met, he wanted to come out the victor.

The ball crashed directly onto the attack line as Tooru struck it down. He was sweating now, his breaths coming steadily in, out. He took another ball and threw it up. When had he started holding a grudge against Ushijma? It was not from their first meeting, but it was hard to determine when exactly that malice started to form. All he could recall was prevailing again and again, until he couldn’t anymore. Just like at that camp, Ushijima prevented his triumph.

The cart was empty. He tossed one of the many balls on the court and jumped to hit it. If Kageyama had been at his heels, threatening to reach greater heights than Tooru ever could, then Ushijima had always been ahead of him, his incredible talent and dedication ensuring his spot as one of the country’s best. Tooru had fought long and hard to try to knock him from the top, but he had not been able to. As another ball was sent flying, Tooru automatically went to take another one. He ignored the ache that was beginning to form in his hand.

How many of those hours spent sharpening his skills and pushing himself to the brink were because of Ushijima? He had no doubt wanted to be the best that would ever come out of Japan, but when Tooru had thought of _finally_ showing Ushijima he was not perfect, that Johsai was better than he gave them credit for, well, Tooru was driven to be better, go harder. That drive was intensified by each loss at the hands of Shiratorizawa, regardless of his chagrin. Even in recent years, worlds apart, he aimed to beat him with the world watching.

The ball was thrown again; Tooru’s eyes widened. He let the ball drop at his feet as he caught his breath. With his heart beating against his ribcage and palms sticky with sweat, he laughed into the air of the empty arena. Ushijima had always been a step ahead, but Tooru had not expected him to be so in regards to Tooru’s own damn psyche.

A pause in his relentless drills finally allowed Tooru to realize his throat was dry. He did not know how long he’d been here, but the time always passed at a breakneck pace when he was alone and focused on the court. He went to the bench and drained his whole bottle. He could not sit; a current ran through him, creating sparks at his fingertips. Tooru’s hatred, and what remained of it, fueled his ambition, provided an objective that he had worked for since they’d met. If he didn’t let it overwhelm him, it was productive, fertile. His head swam and electricity reached under his skin. He saw his phone light up on the bench before it vibrated.

“Tooru! Where have you been?” Gabriel’s voice shouted through the phone. “We’ve been texting you for hours.”

“Why?”

“If you’re trying to be funny right now, it’s not working. Hey, wait—“

“Oikawa, what have you done to Ushiwaka?” This whine was Hoshiumi, who probably had to jump to get the phone. The laughter and beats of drums were so loud in the background that Tooru could only register Ushijima’s name.

“Ushiwaka? Is he with you?” Tooru insisted. He needed to leave, needed to tell him—

“Duh, all of us are. And he’s been weird. Weirder than usual, I mean. All spacey and distracted. What did you say to him yesterday?”

Tooru heard his captain saying something in the distance. He must have given up on taking back his phone. Tooru flexed his free hand repeatedly, stretching out his fingers and clenching them into a fist. He ached for it, yearned to finally—

“Where are all of you?”

“How would I know? Wait a sec,” Hoshiumi said. He shouted over the sounds of the parade, but he neglected to cover the earpiece. Tooru held his cellphone at arm’s length until Hoshiumi got his answer. “We’re near this huge church. Looks like one of those ancient Greek buildings.”

“That’s what Gabriel told you?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I can’t hear him. Are you coming down or what?”

“Yeah,” Tooru said. “Hold on.”

They were close. Hoshiumi’s description really only fit one place in the city. When Tooru left the gym, the horizon was painted in pale, dusty lilacs and pinks that enveloped the waterfront in a warm hue. It was dusk, and Tooru had spent almost the entire day on the court. The roads were closed off for the parade, leaving the sidewalks packed. Tooru maneuvered through the crowds. It seemed all of Buenos Aires had come out tonight for the event. Whole generations of families danced in colourful attire; the steady crashing of cymbals and drums melded with the excitement of the city’s people and their clapping, hollering, chanting. He’d gotten wasted to hell and back during his first Carnival, so unused to the frantic spirit that brought the festival to life. This time, he did not stop to watch the entertainment.

The avenue leading to the Metropolitan Cathedral was teeming with spectators. He pulled out his phone and made a call as he neared the church.

“Oikawa?”

Ushijima picked up on the first ring. A hint of apprehension coloured his tone.

“Hey. Sorry I left things unresolved last night. I know you must’ve wanted a proper answer.”

“It was a lot to absorb. I am just relieved to hear from you again.”

“You thought I would run away? I believed you to have more confidence in me than that,” Tooru laughed.

“I had to stop myself from calling you. I knew you wanted space and time to yourself, but I feared you would drop the matter.”

“There was no damn chance of that happening, Ushiwaka. You made sure of that.”

“Where are you?” Ushijima’s voice sounded closer to the receiver and drowned out the noise.

“In the square opposite the church. Hoshiumi told me you were near here when he was on the call.” Tooru swiveled his head around in both directions, but he caught no glimpse of anyone familiar.

“I will look for you.”

“Okay,” Tooru said. He stopped at the base of a tree near a couple sitting on the grass. He didn’t want to hang up, and so he added, “I changed my mind.”

“I should not look for you?”

“Not that,” Tooru dismissed. He took a deep breath, and said, “I never wanted to play with you. I hated the very idea of it. You wanted me in your school, but the thought of having to bow to your desires on the court was sickening. I called Tobio a king, but you, you ruled Shiratorizawa with an iron fist. I never could have been subordinate to you. But hey, that might be my own ego talking.”

Ushijima was silent for a beat, and Tooru thought he had upset him. “Our approaches were extremely different,” Ushijima admitted. “I believe they both worked well, but time has given me the hindsight necessary to see why mine might not have been to your taste.”

“I don’t think you’re like that anymore, though. And I’m not as stubborn as I used to be, either.”

“What do you mean to say?” Ushijima said softly.

“With me behind you, you can shine. I can make you better than you’ve ever been,” Tooru breathed. “You were right when you said we could take on the world together. It’s a bit too late for that, but I want to see what we can do. I want to see your star explode, Ushiwaka, and I know I can set it off.”

“You,” Ushijima said, and this time Tooru was hearing double, “have a gift for surprises.”

Tooru turned around. He didn’t look at his phone as he ended the call. Ushijima’s grin softened the hard set of his eyes, and butterflies erupted in Tooru’s gut.

“You need to get used to it if we’re going to date,” Tooru said nonchalantly. “Oh, and call Tobio. Tell him to get his ass in gear.”

A short while later, Tooru was back in the gym with the two people he once would have been happy to see whisked off to a deserted island. And now he was here, alone with them _willingly._ Oh, if Iwaizumi could see him now.

“How often do you come here that you require your own key?” Ushijima asked as he slowed to a standstill from his laps around the perimeter.

“It takes a lot of work to keep _this_ in top shape,” Tooru winked. He wheeled the cart beside a bench and tucked a ball under his arm.

“Then why does the rest of your team have their own too?” Kageyama was stretching, pulling each arm across his chest at the elbow.

“They’re just workaholics.”

“The cup calling the bowl black.”

“You couldn’t get one of those things right? Even I thought you were better than that, Tobio. What, you don’t know what it is, either?” Tooru directed the question to Ushijima, who was staring at him with an odd affection that made Tooru embarrassingly warm.

“I am just shocked. That is all.”

“Right, well,” Tooru coughed, “we’re not getting any younger. Let’s get on with it.”

Tooru was reminded of his days helping out with his nephew’s team, except with much older and much less unruly students. His self-worth wasn’t so inflated that he thought he was fit to be their coach, but for now he could teach them a thing or two. They stood before him, Kageyama ramrod straight like a soldier under review, and Ushijima like a teammate receiving a pep talk from his captain. Tooru inhaled, exhaled.

“Alright. You kept asking for it, and what kind of person would I be if I didn’t deliver? Sorry to keep you waiting, and for dragging you from the party. This won’t be as much of a lively event, but you’ll find it useful. Hopefully.” He stepped away and over to the other side of the net. “Show me what you can do.”

When they got into position, he sent the ball sailing over the net. Kageyama got underneath and set it to Ushijima, who expended his full effort to spike it. It rebounded at Tooru’s feet and flew toward the bench.

“What do you think was wrong with that?” Tooru prompted. “To a spectator, it would have looked flawless.”

“But it wasn’t. My timing wasn’t right,” Kageyama shouted from near the end line.

“What about you, Ushiwaka?”

Ushijima stretched his shoulder back. “My attack is not perfect. It is not as powerful as it could be.”

“Tobio, what did I tell you during our first practice? You better not’ve forgotten.”

“Um—don’t focus so much on the lefthandedness. Change the set depending on the person himself, not which hand he uses.”

“Good. Again,” he said. “Ease up on the speed.” He threw another ball, and then another. They kept at it for a while, with Tooru offering comments after each pass. Having Ushijima present aided matters. With every set, Tooru felt that electricity underneath his skin growing impatient, nipping at him and demanding release.

The crack of the ball bouncing against hardwood rang in his head when Tooru crouched under the net and came up the other side, where Ushijima and Kageyama were sweating. He nodded to Kageyama. “You’re getting there. You won’t learn just by watching, but it’ll help. Send the ball over.”

“Got it,” Kageyama called. He took a ball from the cart and took up a post on the other side.

Tooru got into position, where Kageyama previously was. He ignored Ushijima’s eyes on him; a small part of him was afraid he would back down if he gave this too much thought. But another part, bigger and louder, ached for this, for the burst and the fire. He heeded the call.

“Ready,” he said.

Kageyama launched the ball, and it flew smoothly over to the opposing side. Tooru moved to the rhythm of his pulse, the pounding in his blood that eliminated all else but the moment of contact. It was all one fluid motion, the same one Tooru had practiced since he had learned what volleyball was, but this one, this one ignited in him a flare, made him lighter in a way Tooru didn’t know was possible. In a heartbeat, he remembered his observations during the month, counted the moments until it was time. He jumped and sent the ball hurtling to Ushijima, held his breath as he landed.

It was precise, perfect. Ushijima’s arm came forward as the ball fell into his orbit, and the ball careened to the floor with the full force of Ushijima’s spike. He may have been a weapon all on his own amongst the Adlers’ roster, but Tooru sharpened him to a fine point, a blade’s edge meant to kill. The spark running through Tooru stretched to the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers. He shivered with it, with the hot rush that left him at once powerless and invincible. He’d finally set off the supernova with aplomb and stood back to watch the fireworks, and it was overwhelming. They could have gone far together, if things had been different.

Tooru realized the court was silent. They were looking at him again. Kageyama bore a look of concentration, like he’d tried to memorize what’d seen. From near the net, Ushijima regarded him with a heat that made Tooru swallow.

“Did you take notes, Tobio?” Tooru said. He wanted nothing more than to pull Ushijima in close and see if he was as hot as Tooru felt, but he didn’t fancy an audience. “Try again.”

“We owe you our deepest gratitude.”

“I expect first-class treatment next time you’re here. Or when I go back to Japan, whichever,” Tooru said. “I accept compensation in cash or cheque.”

“How about we repay you with a challenge?” Kageyama asked.

“That is not a bad idea,” Ushijima agreed.

“Please. You’re both just penny pinchers.”

Ushijima shook his head. “Next year, in Tokyo. A winner can be decided then.”

“You know what? That’s fine with me. But don’t be mad when we beat you on home ground.”

The waterfront was busier than when they’d arrived. It was approaching midnight, but the celebrations showed no signs of stopping, with almost every establishment packed to the gills. He assumed the rest of their teams were still out, but he hadn’t bothered to ask. He might have gone to join them, but he had other, more pressing plans.

“Kageyama, will you be going out for the rest of the night? I believe they have been messaging us.” Tooru hid a smile; Ushijima brought up the topic before he could.

“Only for a bit,” Kageyama said. He checked his phone, and his brow furrowed. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Tooru took out his own cell. He expected to see Spanish in the group chat, but instead there was only a series of incomprehensible texts from, surprisingly, a presumably intoxicated Hirugami. Tooru would have pinned him as the only sane one of the bunch. Scrolling up, he saw several messages from Hoshiumi, bemoaning the very noticeable absence of some of the party.

“Your captain needs you. Make sure he doesn’t get any more drunk.” Tooru tried to act casual, but it came out a bit more harried than he intended.

“You two aren’t coming?”

“The adults need to talk, young Tobio. Now, leave us be.”

Ushijima took a more tactful approach. “Be careful. Call us if you get lost.”

Kageyama looked at them like one might a salesperson promising too good a deal, all skeptical and a little bit uncertain.

“Why are you so nice with each other? It’s kind of creepy,” he said.

“We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I’m only two years younger than you,” Kageyama groused. Still, he took a big step back and bowed. “Thank you again.”

Tooru elbowed Ushijima in the side once Kageyama was out of earshot. “You _love_ him,” he sang. “Sent him off safely and everything.”

“There is no need for jealousy, Oikawa. I am not interested in anyone else,” Ushijima said dryly.

“Of course you’re not. Why would you be, when you have me?”

Tooru hadn’t gotten his apartment locked behind them when Ushijima dropped his gym bag and pushed him into the door, a gentle hand on his shoulder and the other one whispering along his neck.

“You’re in a hurry,” Tooru said as he also deposited his belongings. He grinned up at Ushijima, put a hand at the back of Ushijima’s head, and drew him in so close that their breaths mingled. “Are you proud of me? I got over myself. I loosened up.”

“I am. Always.”

“I figured out what you meant. About what you said last night. I may have hated you, but that helped me in a lot of ways. I probably wouldn’t have made it here without your awful success.”

“You give yourself too little credit. Your abilities are worthy of your achievements.”

“Yeah, but you sure gave me the drive I needed. I wanted to see your face when you lost to me so, so badly.”

“I am happy the thought of my failure brings you such motivation,” Ushijima said, his gaze filled with a kind warmth that made Tooru want more.

Tooru laughed, airy and buoyant. “But I think I’d like this expression of yours just as much.”

Ushijima trailed his hand up Tooru’s neck to his chin. His thumb followed the line of Tooru’s jaw, traced his bottom lip. Tooru’s mouth opened, and he shivered from the base of his spine. Ushijima was overpowering, his broad frame boxing Tooru in and his rough hands, capable of so much strength, held Tooru’s face with gentle reverence. Ushijima leaned in closer, and when he spoke, Tooru could feel it.

“Can I—“

“You don’t need to ask, now,” Tooru whispered, and he pulled Ushijima down by the back of his head. Their lips met in a slow, soft kiss that left Tooru dizzy. He pushed for more, reached up underneath the hem of Ushijima’s shirt and touched the taut muscles of his stomach. He felt Ushijima’s hand run down his side and rest at his hip. When they separated. Tooru was breathless.

“It is embarrassing,” Ushijima said, his own breath laboured, “but I have wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“I remember you said you’ve always liked me. You can’t just leave it at that. Did you have a crush? All those times we played together, did you secretly want to make out? You hated that you liked me so you tried to beat your feelings into submission by making sure you won every time,” Tooru said gleefully.

“You could have a career as a budding romance novelist.” Ushijima smiled unsteadily, and his hand idly stroked the bare skin at Tooru’s hipbone where his shirt had ridden up. “I suppose you could call it an adolescent infatuation. You were—are—bright. You light up the room you are in and command attention. I was drawn to the flame, I think—but I did not try to dissuade myself from liking you. I was competitive purely because you were a worthy opponent.”

Tooru teased at the waistband of Ushijima’s jeans as he hummed. “You hid it well. I never would have thought you held a torch for me.”

“As you mentioned, I also did not have much time for matters of that nature.”

“It’s difficult when you practically live on the court twenty-four seven,” Tooru agreed. “My exes were always upset with me.”

“You are better suited for someone who understands that commitment,” Ushijima said. He tugged Tooru in closer at the hip. Tooru hissed at the friction.

“Hm, I can’t imagine who that could be. Maybe you have someone in mind.” Tooru smirked, and he leaned up with a little pout on his lips. Ushijima met him halfway.

“Forget anything? If you do, it’s mine to keep.”

“I hear it is possible to mail things now.”

Tooru threw a cushion at Ushijima, who caught it with a deft hand and placed it back on the sofa. “My brilliant sense for sarcasm better not be rubbing off on you. And it’d cost me a fortune to send something all the way to Tokyo.”

“I only brought my gym clothes with me yesterday,” Ushijima conceded. He was sitting on one end of the couch as he waited for Tooru to go to his closet and change. He was wearing a borrowed shirt from Tooru. It had been a gift from his sister, but when it turned out to be a couple sizes too big, he didn’t have the heart to return it. The Aegean blue went well with Ushijima’s shade of brown hair better than it did Tooru’s, and it fit him annoyingly well.

“Tobio’s got the rest of your stuff, right? How was it like rooming with him? I bet he’s a mess,” Tooru said as he went to his room and rummaged for something to wear. He needed something that would hide the marks Ushijima had left around his collar. He ran a finger over them, wondering how long they would stay on him.

“He packs very lightly. What he does have is arranged neatly.”

Tooru turned from his mirror and plucked a simple button-down from his closet and some shorts from a drawer. “How boring. No juicy secrets? Extremely complicated nighttime routine? Can’t sleep without hugging a volleyball?”

“If he did have any, I would be wary of telling you.”

“You couldn’t hide them from me for long. I’d be able to get them out of you.”

“And how would you try?”

Tooru did a once-over in front of the mirror before going to the den. Ushijima was looking at his phone, and Tooru crept up beside him. He bent down, stuck out his tongue, and licked the shell of Ushijima’s ear. Tooru hurt himself laughing as Ushijima almost dropped his phone. He fixed Tooru with an unimpressed look.

“That would deter me from revealing any secrets.”

“How about this?” Tooru challenged, and he pushed Ushijima back into the sofa with a demanding hand as he straddled him. Ushijima put his phone aside in favour of tangling a hand in Tooru’s hair and wrapping the other around his waist. The kiss was lazy and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.

“You can miss your flight, right?” Tooru said. He dipped his forehead onto Ushijima’s shoulder. Ushijima’s hand in his hair reached down for his own, and Tooru drew the lines of Ushijima’s palm with a thumb.

“My absence would be extremely conspicuous. I would delay the entire team.”

“They’ll survive. This city’s a great place to live, you know. There are worse places to be stranded.”

“I would love to stay,” Ushijima said. Tooru felt the vibration of Ushijima’s timbre, deep and rich. He pressed deeper into the crook of Ushijima’s shoulder.

“If you’d confessed to me sooner, we’d have had more time.”

“I do not think our relationship would have turned out like this if I had done that,” Ushijima said, amused.

“I guess so. But we could’ve had a month of this,” Tooru mumbled into Ushijima’s skin.

“It is just the beginning. We have as much as time as we want.” Ushijima’s voice was tender, and his arm tightened around Tooru’s waist. “The distance between us cannot stop that.”

“Just so you know, I can be needy. You better answer my calls. I’ll try not to wake you up, but I can’t promise anything.”

“I have been warned. I will make do with less sleep,” Ushijima said solemnly.

Tooru raised his head. “And when we meet next, it’ll be in Tokyo. And I _will_ beat you this time, make no mistake about it. Understood?”

“I do.”

“Don’t go easy on me because we’re dating. I won't forgive you if you do, and I’ll know if you don’t give it your all.”

“I will not.”

“I’m coming for you. Don’t you dare forget that.”

“I have looked forward to our matches since our very first. I will not stop now,” Ushijima said. He squeezed Tooru’s hand and with a spark in his eye, continued, “I do not plan on ceasing my victories, either.”

With narrowed eyes and a thrumming in his chest, Tooru kissed him hard with all the resolution he held, and Ushijima rose up to the challenge.

The stadium came to life for them. When Tooru’s team came out onto the court, he let the shouts of the commentators and the thunder in the stands pierce him and jolt through his veins.

He’d made it.

They took their positions. Tooru met Ushijima’s gaze from the opposite side of the net. They watched each other with fierce eyes, and Tooru could feel Ushijima’s hands over his skin, hear Ushijima’s voice vibrate under his palm. Tooru had arrived three days before the start of the Games, and they’d spent each of those three nights together, tangled in sheets and becoming reacquainted. Video calls were a wonderful convenience, but they held no candle to the real thing. They’d lingered at the door of Tooru’s room just a few hours ago, Tooru whispering against Ushijima’s lips that today, today Ushijima better keep an eye on Tooru, because he was _going to win._

Tooru wondered what Ushijima would look like when he finally lost, looked forward to tonight, to the rest of their time together, regardless of the game’s result. He spun the ball, wet his lips.

The whistle blew. Tooru smirked, tossed the ball up, and jumped.


End file.
